Behind Closed Doors and Vacant Eyes
by elfx9
Summary: Ste and Brendan are a couple, and the Brady's come to visit for Christmas. Whilst Brendan hasn't revealed to him any of the horrors he's suffered as a child, Ste starts to realise he doesn't know the full story.
1. Chapter 1

**Not sure about this one. Hard to write something with so many characters crammed in – so it feels a little wishy-washy as a result. Urrrr, but I thought I may as well publish it anyway.**

**I've called Cheryl's mum 'Maggie', but I just made that up. It starts in Ste's POV, and then switches back and forth between his and Brendan's. Should be straightforward enough, I hope. **

**Ste and Brendan are a couple, and the Brady's have come over for Christmas… **

**XOX**

He's nervous as he tucks the shirt he's wearing haphazardly into his jeans. His fingers are a little shaky, and heart beating a little faster than usual. He's not sure what to expect. Brendan's family… they've always been somewhat an enigma to him. A force that intimidates him somewhat.

Brendan is nervous too, he can tell. Not that he's said anything to confirm that theory.

"_Just shut up about it."_ He'd muttered late last night, as the two settled down to sleep; Ste's head slumped sleepily against Brendan's chest, _"I'm sure they'll love ye."_

He'd been trying to ease Ste's worry, but still, Ste suspects Brendan has been putting off this meeting for a long time. Lets face it, the last time Ste and Eileen were face-to-face, it hadn't been all smiles and handshakes. And Brendan's family are Irish Catholics… what if they have a problem with Brendan being gay and they're waiting to meet Ste before speaking up about it? What if they hate his guts? What if they think he's common, beneath them, white-trash?

Brendan has bought Ste the outfit he's wearing as an 'early Christmas present'. Just a plain greyish shirt, but it's dead smart and expensive. Brendan's wearing a black shirt, with short sleeves that emphasise his muscles. He looks absolutely amazing, but it worries Ste slightly that he's put so much thought into their outfits for the occasion. Clearly this isn't the _casual_ family get-together that Cheryl tries to paint it out as.

The doorbell rings at about 12:30pm, and Ste hears Cheryl bounding down the stairs. He stays in Brendan's bedroom, checking and re-checking himself in the mirror as he hears the squeals of:

"Mum! Ahhhh, it's so amazing to see you! How ARE you?!"

"Oh Cheryl love, don't you look beautiful?! Oooh, crackin' place you've got here!"

A few other voices too. One of them is Brendan's as he greets the guests, but Ste can't make out the others over Cheryl's loudness. Her mum seems just as exaggerated and joyful. Perhaps she'll be nice… perhaps she'll be like Cheryl… easy to get along with…

Ste chooses them moment to leave the bedroom and stands awkwardly in the kitchen, watching the family reunion. Behind Cheryl's mother is Declan, who Brendan has embraced intensely. Behind Declan is Eileen, with a younger boy wrapped under her arm who must be Padraig. There's a man in a suit with his hand on Eileen's back… he must be her boyfriend. And behind _him_… the man who makes Ste's stomach knot nervously… Brendan's father.

"Oh! Oh, mum, this is Ste!" Cheryl suddenly chimes. She rushes forward towards him and Ste feels himself being pushed eagerly forward into Maggie, Cheryl's mum. "This is who I was telling you about!"

"Hi Ste." Maggie looks him up and down. Ste can't really tell what she's thinking and swallows nervously. "Cheryl tells me you're a cook?"

"Oh, um… yeah. I got a deli… just round the corner." He stammers back.

Over Maggie's shoulder, Ste watches as Brendan comes face-to-face with his father, Seamus, and it only serves to make his stomach knot even tighter. He and Brendan have talked about this – over and over. They agreed Brendan would be on his best behaviour… today is about making Cheryl happy and integrating Ste into the Brady family, properly. It's not about stirring up trouble.

"Oh that's grand." Maggie chimes, "So no burnt spuds this Christmas then, eh?!"

"Mm, Ste's been showin' me these recipes that he's gonna be serving up Christmas eve, and they look _amazing!" _Cheryl gushes, "Ste, you'll have to show mum – dead impressive!"

Ste can barely hear what Cheryl's staying as his eyes remain fixed on Brendan. With the family moving away from Brendan and into the kitchen, Ste sees his façade fall slightly – his eyes gloss over momentarily, almost too quickly for anybody to see. Then he stiffens himself up again, smoothes down his moustache, straightens his own collar.

Ste's so busy watching Brendan, he barely notices that Cheryl is still talking. Not only that, but Eileen has joined the rally around him. He blinks. Remembers he's supposed to be making a good impression…

"Hiya…" he addresses Eileen uncertainly.

"Didn't realise _you _would be here." Eileen states bluntly.

"Oh, did Brendan not tell you?" Cheryl asks, "Oh yeah – Ste practically lives here now, don't you love?"

"Well…" Ste feels his face going red, "Kind of. Sometimes, yeah."

And then a low Irish drawl from behind him as Brendan swoops in, and his hand reaches up to Ste's shoulder and squeezes it tightly.

"Steven's the chef behind this whole operation, Eileen, so play nice, yeah?"

Ste feels his breathing slow slightly; relieved. He feels stronger with Brendan here – less exposed and vulnerable and out-of-place. Even as Eileen's eyes trail over him with dislike. Even when he feels Seamus's eyes boring into him from his predatory position in the kitchen…

"Um… I made some sort of snack things, actually." Ste mutters, "I'll bring 'em all over…"

"Yeah, come on everyone – sit down!" Cheryl bustles excitedly, "We have got SO MUCH to catch up on!"

As Seamus follows Cheryl into the living room, his shoulder pushes against Ste's slightly, and Ste feels a shiver cross his spine. He feels the way Seamus's presence holds the room – same way Brendan's does, but different. This is the man that _hit _Brendan… that caused him pain. Now he's sat on Brendan's sofa, casual and unremorseful as you like, chuckling away at Cheryl's story. He watches his daughter with adoration in his eyes; like the sun shines out of her. He has barely looked Brendan's way once.

"Are you alright?" Ste mutters, noticing that Brendan is watching his father with the same scrutiny.

Brendan blinks out of it, turns back to Ste, and says plainly "Told ye they'd like you."

"Err… what gives ya that impression? Didn't look like it to me."

"Ignore Eileen; she's always been a cow."

"Brendan!"

"Jus' keep doing what you're doin'. We'll get through it."

Even as he says it, Brendan takes an extra large swig of whisky. Ste hadn't even seen him pour the glass… but it's a little early for that kind of liquor. Still, he says nothing. He grabs some of the plates he prepared last night – they're filled with all of the deli's most posh snacks and tasters. He takes them into the living room, where the female Brady's all cackle and shout excitedly over one another. He lays them down on the table, and squeezes on the edge of the sofa, leg pressed against Brendan's for comfort. He tries to ignore how tense Brendan's body feels against his own, and the way he and Seamus stare at each other with hatred that crackles coldly in the surroundings.

XOX

Brendan can barely hear what his family are saying for most of the evening. They all gossip and chatter among themselves – only ever including Steven in their conversations when Cheryl purposefully involves him. Steven, for his part, does his best to laugh along with their inside jokes that he doesn't understand. He does his best to answer their passive aggressive questions with politeness that doesn't quite suit him.

"Got Brendan well and truly under the thumb have ye?" Eileen asks.

"Er… well someone's got to, ain't they?" Ste attempts to joke back to a frosty reception.

"You're not spending Christmas with your _own _family then?" Maggie asks.

"Um, well, my kids are in Manchester. Me and Bren are gonna go up there on Boxing Day, spend the day with 'em."

"Ste _is _a part of the family here." Cheryl saves him, "Best brother-in-law a girl could ask for. Well… you know… not _technically _my brother-in-law _yet _but…"

Their voices fade in and out of focus for Brendan. He's angry that his family haven't accepted Steven with the willingness Steven needs from them. He's embarrassed on Steven's behalf that he has to keep answering for himself. He's angry at himself for not stepping in more…

But the reason behind that is he can't concentrate. Not with his father here. He thought he'd be okay. He'd got himself worked up and worked up for this day – knowing for a good month that it was coming. Both Cheryl and Steven know full well that Brendan and Seamus don't get along, and they've been understanding of it, but neither of them know the full truth. He couldn't put either of them through that – the sickness and anguish of it.

He'd thought he'd be okay, but he isn't. He can feel his heart hammering, his palms sweating, his throat constricting, his fists clenching. He hates and loathes that man more than he ever felt possible – and yet there is nothing he can do about it. Everybody else here loves him. He's Cheryl's hero. The boys respect him. Maggie – for all the shit she puts up with from him – still for some reason loves him. None of them know. None of them know what he did. What a monster he is. How he destroyed Brendan, and how long it took for Brendan to build himself back together bit by bit, and mostly thanks to Steven, who they are now shunning.

He gulps back another glass of whisky.

At around 4:00pm, Declan asks Steven outside for a kickabout. Aside from Cheryl, he's the only one giving Steven the time of day – and Brendan's proud of him for it. Steven goes out with obvious relief and willingness, and Brendan watches through the kitchen window as he, Declan and Padraig kick the ball between each other, taking turns to go in goal and taking turns to take penalties.

"Cheryl says he makes you happy."

Brendan turns and faces Maggie, who's bringing some dirty plates over to the dish-washer. Seamus stands only centimetres behind her, also gazing out of the window at them. Brendan feels his heart-rate quicken.

"You could try giving him more of a chance then." He says quietly. He doesn't take his eyes of Seamus for a second.

"That's exactly what I am doing!" Maggie protests, "It's nice… seeing you with someone. Even if it is a … lad."

Brendan's teeth clench. His fingernails dig into his flesh as he clenches them inside his pockets; his muscles visibly flexing.

"Bit young for you, isn't he?" Seamus drawls.

_Ignore it, _a voice says in Brendan's head. Steven's voice – from those dark nights they'd spent together when Brendan had openly fretted about his fathers arrival. _Ignore it, count to ten, don't let them get to you. Please._

"He's legal." Brendan hisses pointedly, barely audible, suppressing emotions.

Seamus shrugs. "Seems like a sweet enough lad. Responsive. I like that in a man."

"Don't push me." Brendan whispers, venom clear in his tone, moving up in his fathers face, eyes bulging. Anything to get Seamus's eyes off Steven and his boys in the garden. Anything to stop him talking about him. Steven's name should never come off of Seamus's lips – he should never breathe a word about him. Brendan had never wanted the two of them to meet – _never. _

He squares up to his father; neither one of them taking their eyes off the other – they size each other up. They've been here before. Seven years ago… when Brendan punched his father square in the face. Deep down, he knows it's all bravado. He's old enough now to have mastered intimidation and threat… but when it comes to his father, that's not what he really feels. If he truly truly thought about it deeply enough – he'd admit to being scared. Terrified even. A thin line of sweat layers his skin at all times, and it's not the anger – and that's the worst thing about all of this.

How can he protect Steven from the toxic aura of this man, if he can't even cope with it himself? This man shouldn't even be sharing the same air as Steven.

"Brendan," Maggie sighs, "Calm down, come on."

She doesn't see Brendan's hatred for her husband as any more than petty father/son rivalry. Stupid, ignorant woman. Brendan doesn't know whether to hate her or pity her. In actual fact, he feels a strange fondness for her he can't bring himself understand. He supposes it's because she bought Cheryl into the world.

"All he's saying is, we like your boyfriend – okay? We'll give him a chance."

Brendan blinks, backing away from his father, taking a deep breath. "Steven's not here for your approval." He says sharply. "He's here cos I want him to be here."

"Oh, I can't win!" Maggie exclaims, exasperated, "Stay on your defensive if you want, Brendan – I'm here for a _relaxing _Christmas, okay?!"

And with that, she struts away. So like Cheryl in many ways. Like _all_ the Brady women; feisty, short-tempered, self-righteous.

Seamus is still looking out the window at them.

"He's got a funny way of talking, that queer of yours." He says matter-of-factly, as if he's embarking on shamelessly casual conversation.

"Shut the fuck up." Brendan hisses under his breath. He draws close to his fathers ear, and threatens lowly, "If you so much as contaminate the air around him, I will kill ye – do you understand me?"

Seamus laughs lowly, keeping still so as not to draw attention from the rest of the family.

"Whatever you say, Brendan."

He says it with such ease, such lack of emotion. He's not affected by Brendan's words in the slightest. He's not afraid of him. To him, Brendan will always be the child that cowered in fear… the child he beat the tears out of, the child he covered the mouth of. The child he destroyed, and mocked for it afterwards.

Brendan feels like that child now.

XOX

"Brendan?"

Ste crouches on the bed… looking into the vacant expression of his lover.

He'd returned from the football game to find Brendan nowhere to be seen. Cheryl and the rest of the Brady's seemed not even to have noticed his absence. Ste wonders how long he's been here… sat here like this, not moving… just staring straight ahead of him.

"Brendan?" He croaks again, growing worried. "Hey… speak to me."

Brendan blinks slowly, he turns his head to meet the wide blue concerned eyes that belong to the lad he loves.

"What time is it?" He asks.

Ste swallows, "About 6:00."

"D'you know when they're leavin'?"

"Not for a while, I don't think. Cheryl just got champagne out."

"That champagne was supposed to be for tomorrow." Brendan's voice is flat. Monotone and robotic – like he's not really feeling.

"Brendan, are you alright?"

"I told her – that's the expensive one. It's for tomorrow, not today."

"Brendan, forget the champagne." Ste urges, shuffling towards Brendan on the bed. "You're scarin' me."

Brendan sighs, and pulls Ste against him. As Ste's head rests against Brendan's chest, he can feel his heart beating fast. He can feel the small yet distinctive tremble of his body.

"What's the matter?" Ste whispers. Hushed. Intimate. "Tell me."

"Did you win the football game?"

"Brendan…"

"No offence, but it looked like Padraig was kicking your arse."

Ste pulls away from him and looks Brendan dead in the eye. He's at a loss. Brendan is notoriously difficult, but now Ste feels completely devoid of any idea of how to deal with this. More than anything, he wants to Brady's to leave. He doesn't like to see Brendan like this… can't stand it. And he so wanted this Christmas to be perfect. Their first Christmas as a proper couple.

He leans forward, and presses his lips against Brendan's – soft, yet firm. Assuring. He pulls back and presses his forehead against Brendan's, and whispers "I love you" because he feels Brendan needs to hear it.

Brendan sighs. The colour seems to be coming back to him… the soul returning and replacing the coldness that marked his eyes just moments ago.

"Thanks for bein' here." He murmurs; genuine and open for just a minute.

"We can leave if you want." Ste says, "If you want we could… we could get a hotel couldn't we? Spend Christmas just you and me?"

"I need to be with the boys."

Ste nods, understanding. "We could just go to bed now though, couldn't we?"

Truth be told, Ste doesn't want to go back out there. Declan and Padraig are fine – but there rest make him feel uncomfortable. Eileen with her sarky remarks and Maggie with her dismissive attitude towards him. Eileen's boyfriend responds to any of Ste's questions with a mere grunt and Seamus… Ste doesn't like the looks he's getting from him. He wouldn't dare tell Brendan so though… not right now.

"Yeah." Brendan breathes, "Yeah… lets go to bed."

"You look knackered." Ste kicks his shoes off gratefully, pulls his jumper up over his head.

He's not expecting it when Brendan pulls him half across the bed. Before he knows it, Brendan's lips are full on his neck, his hands snaking up the inside of the grey expensive shirt. Ste responds to him immediately, as he always does with Brendan - even back in the days where he tried his upmost not to. He pulls Brendan's shirt over his head, kisses his lips, his moustache, his neck, collarbone, chest.

Brendan lays him back on the bed, and his lips are everywhere. Ste feels his own breath hitching, the sensations tingling underneath his skin, and he bites down on his lip to stop himself crying out – that's the last thing the Brady's need to hear.

His trousers are pulled off him and discarded on the floor, and their bodies are pressed together, rocking against each other, preparing each other. As Brendan pushes inside, his tongue enters Ste's mouth – muffling any noises Brendan pre-empts him making.

Ste's eyes are clasped shut as he concentrates on not shouting out; breathing deeply with the efforts as Brendan fills him. It feels amazing. Skin against skin, sweat against sweat, Brendan's hands in his hair as if he's cradling him away from the whole world. It's intense and hot, but it's intimate… Ste's hands clasp to Brendan's back and his legs fold tightly around his waist; keeping him closer and closer – as though they can never be close enough.

It isolates them from the goings-on outside the bedroom; makes them forget completely as they loose themselves in the sensations.

Until the sound of laughter fills their ears. Light and effortless laughter, which echoes from just outside the bedroom – the sounds of Cheryl and Seamus doing the washing up together.

Ste feels Brendan immediately tense and still above him. He glances upwards, and sees Brendan staring into the distance, his eyes wide… almost wild.

Ste reaches his hand up and strokes Brendan's cheek tenderly. His fingers shake slightly as he does so… he doesn't know whether it's from the sex or a symptom of the fear he's suddenly feeling now.

"B…Brendan?" He whispers softly.

Seamus and Cheryl are talking outside the door – her voice loud and enthusiastic, his is low and full of confidence. All Ste can hear now is them. Them, and the sounds of his own heart hammering nervously.

"Brendan?"

Brendan blinks out of his daze. He glances back down at Ste beneath him… he seems to remember where he is. He pushes his mouth hard against Ste's and drives his tongue inside. He starts to thrust again… but it's not the same… it's not natural, it's desperate.

"Are you okay?" Ste whispers, his voice strained as he tries not to react to the build up of sensations.

"Yeah." Brendan breathes. But he's not. He's not even looking at Ste much anymore; he's looking dazed into his shoulder, and he's driving into him with concentration he's never had to exercise before, and Ste doesn't like it…

"Wait, stop a sec…" But his voice is drowned out by a particularly loud burst of laughter from outside the door; Seamus's tones ringing through both their ears.

And Brendan's nails are digging hard into the skin of Ste's neck. Harder and harder, as Brendan's eyes clench tighter and tighter shut, and it's like he's losing it, pounding into him without feel or emotion, and Ste knows he can't get through to him…

"Brendan," he croaks. And Ste finds he's struggling to breathe with the surreal and scary mixture of pleasure, pain, fear, concern. He feels like Brendan is drifting further and further from him, quicker than he can comprehend in his current state, and the pain in his neck worsens as Brendan's grip tightens, "BRENDAN!"

Brendan starts. He blinks… and it's like before his eyes, Ste sees his mind return… Brendan's spirit return to the room. His grip on Ste's neck immediately slackens, and he pulls out… separating himself immediately.

Ste doesn't want that either… he feels cold from the lack of contact. His body literally shivers as he stares into the horrified and scared expression of his lover. He's never seen him look so scared. It petrifies him.

"Brendan, what's wron…"

"I'm sorry." Brendan looks sick. Completely pale and disgusted in himself.

"No, it's alright." Ste croaks sincerely. He hurries towards Brendan, cradling his face in his hands, "It's alright…"

"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't… I didn't mean to…"

"Shh. You didn't do anythin' wrong..." Ste soothes, his heart hammering uncomfortably as he stares into Brendan's openly traumatised eyes. "Please tell me what's wrong."

"I'm sorry."

"You've got nothin' to be sorry for…"

"You should sleep now."

Brendan is climbing out of the bed. Moving away, putting his clothes on…

"Come back to bed." Ste pleads, but he already knows it's useless. Brendan looks like a caged animal… like his thoughts are the prison bars rattling inside of him. Ste knows instantly that he's leaving, and that he won't come back tonight, and that he'll fight whatever it is that's inside of him _alone, _because he doesn't want Ste to be dragged down with him.

"Please!" He sniffs, regardless.

"Go to sleep." Brendan says again. His voice is croaky and dry and barely audible.

When Brendan pulls open the bedroom door, Ste catches a brief glimpse of Cheryl and Seamus in the kitchen. Brendan pulls the bedroom door shut behind him, concealing Ste from their eyeline. But even so, Seamus catches a glimpse. As Ste wraps the bed-covers self-consciously around his naked body, he swears that Seamus's eyes PIERCE into his own – even just for that tiny second they're within eyeshot.

It's long enough to make Ste feel sick to the stomach. He feels his own body rocking; dizzy, reeling, shocked. He doesn't know what just happened with Brendan, but he's shaken from it. His fingers tremble as he reaches down for his boxers. He figures what he's feeling now is only an inkling of what Brendan is feeling… and in his gut he knows it's because of _that man_. He knows there's more to this than what Brendan originally had him believe.


	2. Chapter 2

**After the lovely comments, I've decided to carry on with this one. Ta loves! **

**XOX**

It's 5:00am before Brendan can bring himself to return home. The place is completely still and silent by now; Cheryl's sound asleep in her room, the boys in Lynsey's, Eileen and her useless twat of a boyfriend in Joel's. In the living room, the sofa has been pulled out into a bed, where Seamus and Maggie sleep soundly. Undisturbed and untroubled. Brendan notes that they sleep completely separately, no touching whatsoever, but also that their breaths are in sync with one another. He shivers slightly… but it's not the same cold sweat that he was feeling earlier. Now the booze drowns out the fear. No wonder; he's consumed nearly half the Chez Chez stock.

When he creeps into his own bedroom, Steven is asleep too. He's still naked apart from his boxers, and he's sprawled and twisted himself around the covers as if he's clinging onto them in sleep. His mouth is open slightly, and his bum pokes out, and Brendan can't help but smile at the sight of it. Fascinating that… that even in times like these, Steven can drag a smile from him.

Brendan undresses as quietly as possible, but the alcohol makes him more clumsy. He sighs, holding onto the dresser for support, but even the tiny squeak of it is enough to wake Steven from his slumber.

"Brendan?" He croaks, sleepy-eyed.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Where've you been?"

"Jus' at the club." Brendan grunts as explanation, pulling off his jeans and tossing them aside.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm sorry." Brendan breathes again, as he sinks into the bed and wraps his arms around the man he loves. He presses his own chest against Steven's back, and pulls them close together so that every inch of them is touching. Despite the sickliness of the phrase 'spooning', this is Brendan's favourite position to sleep in. This way, when his arms enclose around Steven's chest and waist, he can feel every breath that he breathes. This way, Steven can never feign ignorance to his morning erection, and he's quick to cater to it. This way, Brendan can't see the way Steven's eyes glisten with concern that Brendan can't face up to. He doesn't want Steven to look at him like that… with pity and anxiety. He doesn't want Steven to think of him as weak.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Brendan whispers, full of sincerity despite his words slurring slightly, "I didn't mean to, I don't…"

"You _didn't._" Steven insists.

Brendan shuts his eyes, feeling sleep FINALLY call him now that he's comfortable and secure like this. He's grown so accustomed to falling asleep with Steven in his bed that now it would be scarily difficult to live without it.

"…Brendan?"

Brendan doesn't reply. Steven gets like this, even on normal nights. He likes to talk as Brendan's drifting off to sleep. Usually he chats complete shit and expects Brendan to match his levels of enthusiasm for that shit, which is simply not possible. He's used to Brendan eventually ignoring him … it's Brendan's unaggressive way of calling it a night.

Tonight, even more so, Brendan doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want to talk about what happened.

"I'm worried about you." Steven whispers.

Brendan draws a low sigh, "Don't be."

"You can talk to me, you know. I want you to be able to tell me anythin'."

"I do."

"You're not though are ya?" Steven wriggles away from Brendan, twisting into a sitting position so he can look at Brendan _properly. _Brendan winces; this is not what he wants.

"Steven, I'm tired."

"There's something wrong and _please _Bren, I just want to understand."

"Steven _fuck sake._" Brendan snaps, with more aggression than he anticipated, "My only problem right now is _you, _now shut the fuck up and let me sleep!"

Brendan turns over, turning his back on Steven's openly hurt expression. The room is completely silent for some time, and Brendan allows his eyes to fall shut. He knows he's hurt the lad, but if that's the only way of avoiding… _that _conversation… then so be it.

He doesn't hear Steven shift back into his lying position. He doesn't hear him fall asleep at all.

XOX

The kitchen is alive as Ste races back and forth between oven and stove and chopping board. Steam billows from the saucepan, and food sizzles on the hob. He feels safe and secure like this; cooking. It's one thing he _knows _he's good at. He feels - even with the Brady's milling around - like he's actually contributing and doing something useful. Not so clumsy and awkward and in-the-way as he felt yesterday.

Brendan sits silently at the table, just watching him. The two of them haven't exchanged a word all morning after Brendan snapping his head off last night. Ste isn't _angry _at him… and he doesn't think Brendan's angry either. There's just an atmosphere of guilt, concern and unspoken feelings… the tension of there being so much to say, but Brendan not being willing to say it. So they've remained silent, but comfortably so, rather than coldly. In their silence, they've still remained fixed to each others side amongst the comparative chaos of Cheryl and the Brady's.

"Smells good." Brendan says shortly. The first thing he's said all morning.

"Thanks." Ste gives him a short, distracted smile.

"My God!" Maggie chimes in, joining them in the kitchen, "Looks fit for the palace – all of this!"

Ste feels his face going red slightly; an embarrassing result of the pride he still feels when anyone comments on his work.

"Hopefully it tastes as good." He replies sheepishly.

"Oooh, I'd be the size of a house if I had a chef living with _me_!"

"Oh… no, it's… it's all dead healthy and that…"

"You're a lucky boy, Brendan!" Maggie says, a little too over-enthusiastically.

Brendan merely grunts, turning away from her. The amount of effort she's putting in is too much for him, Ste can tell. Still, he tries to explain Brendan's attitude with a more reasonable excuse:

"He's hungover."

"Oh, are ye new?" Maggie chides. "Where'd you get off to last night?"

"Club." Brendan answers shortly.

Again, Ste steps in.

"He had to work, didn't ya Bren? But then I think he made it a busman's holiday."

"He's a naughty boy, isn't he?" Maggie giggles. Ste figures she's slightly tipsy herself.

He nods politely back, feigning an amused smile.

"When's all this being served then? I could eat a house!"

"Shouldn't be much longer…" Ste wipes his hands down on his jeans, before remembering they're new and expensive and rushing towards a tea-towel "I'm jus' gonna put in the rare stakes now…"

"Declan!" Brendan suddenly barks to his son, who's currently playing the Playstation in the living room, "Make yerself useful; come lay the table!"

"'s alright, I can do it." Ste insists; conscious that this short-tempered demand has now gathered the attention of Eileen and Seamus. They're looking over disapprovingly.

"You're not doin' everything on your own." Brendan grunts, and leans across Ste's workspace for the pack of lagers. He unwraps one and pushes it into Ste's hands, "Here, relax."

"No, we're drinkin' that posh wine your Dad bought…"

"Ye can have whatever you want, Steven!"

Brendan sounds exasperated, but the message is loud and clear; they're not going to piss around trying to make a good impression for these people anymore. Usually, that works just fine for Ste. But with the Brady's surrounding him, he can't help but want their approval, and is hesitant when he sips from the lager can; feeling like the scum of the earth for doing so.

Still, Brendan seems to be doing better than last night, and Ste doesn't want anything to go wrong again. If revolting against the standards of his family is what keeps him strong, then Ste will take the hit for it.

XOX

At dinner, Brendan finds himself seated between Cheryl and Padraig, leaving Steven on the other side of the table between Eileen and Maggie. It's hardly ideal, but Steven seems comfortable enough – he's on his third beer, and it's loosening him up somewhat. Brendan gets a kick out of watching him like this; his face becoming flushed with the more drink he consumes, and his grin gradually becoming more goofy and lopsided.

Cheryl – clutching her fourth glass of wine - is in a similar state, and is becoming louder and more rowdy as a result of it. She attracts and practically demands the attention of the whole table… which is fine by Brendan because it makes it easier not to look at _him. _Seamus. He's seated between Padraig and Maggie – almost directly opposite Steven. He's leant back in his chair; casual and confident and domineering, with a calm expression and self-satisfied smirk on his face, as he sips wine with the sophistication of a classy man, rather than the monster he really is.

Brendan feels his fist flex around his own glass, but then takes a deep breath and suppresses it. It's what Steven's taught him, as a way of anger management. Something Steven learn himself, back in the day of his counselling sessions. Brendan had promised himself during the haze of last night that this wouldn't happen again; his father's presence would _not _take hold of him the way it did last night.

His thoughts are interrupted by his own name being cackled.

"And then d'you remember when Brendan got himself locked in the car, when he was about eleven?!" Cheryl laughs, "And Nana was in a right state trying to get him to pass the keys, and he wouldn't do it – d'you remember?!"

"Uh, vividly. Bloody nightmare he was, back then." Maggie sighs.

"So what's changed?!" Steven joins in, grinning from ear-to-ear.

Brendan can't help but smile at that. It's the effect Steven has, again. And even though he's hardly being acknowledged, at least tonight's the alcohol is giving him the guts to speak up for himself. Just as well; he's by far the most interesting at the table.

"Oh, Ste!" Cheryl giggles, "Did Brendan ever tell you about when he got expelled from school?"

"Uh, Chez." Brendan groans.

"It was this grammar school he went to. And he got expelled and he managed to go a whole _three weeks _without any of us finding out! I still don't know how he managed it – all that time – and it only got him in more trouble doing that!"

Brendan inwardly flinches. Why? Why do they have to delve into past anecdotes? It's murky territory, and he wants to move on… change the subject…

"It was a shit school anyway." He mutters dismissively, "How's your school goin', Padraig?"

"It wasn't a shit school!" Maggie protests, destroying Brendan's plans. "It was one of the best in the area – you were damn lucky to go there!"

"Mm." Cheryl nods to Ste, almost boastfully adding, "An all-boys grammar school."

"All boys." Seamus says darkly, "_That's _where we went wrong."

Brendan hears the comment, but refuses to acknowledge it; keeping his eyes fixed down on the table, keeping his breathing level. As always with his father, it's like everybody else round the table hasn't even _heard _what he said. It's always the way, when he lets out his true colours… it only ever seems to be Brendan that sees it. It's something that's mystified and sickened him his whole life.

But perhaps Steven hears it too… because he's doing that thing, where he swiftly counterbalances the conversation – his eyes fixed anxiously on Brendan the whole time.

"'s probably why he's dead clever."

"Who, Brendan?"

"Yeah." Ste nods enthusiastically, "He's well smart, innhe'?"

Seamus puts down his wine glass, and fixes his eyes upon Steven with scrutiny. Brendan feels his muscles flex subconsciously again.

"And what school did you go to, lad?" Seamus asks.

"Oh…" Ste's face turns slightly more red, "I didn't stay in school very long, me."

Seamus nods, as if it's what he suspected.

"Ye don't say." He mutters scathingly.

And… once again… it's as if nobody else has heard it. Instantly, before there's a chance to react, Eileen has piped up about Declan's head-teacher, and the conversation continues to flow casually as if there was no interruption.

But Brendan can't hear again, because all he can see is Steven, and how Steven's face has dropped, and how his eyes shine with what Brendan recognises as humiliation. Steven's tongue swipes over his bottom lip self-consciously, and he takes a large swig of his lager, and his eyes are faded out as if he's running Seamus's comment over and over in his head. And Brendan knows he is, because that's Steven… and Seamus has just exploited his biggest insecurity.

"….And I explained that Declan had a tummy bug, ye know, a white lie and…" Eileen continues to rabbit on, but Brendan's had enough.

"Woah, woah, woah." He says loudly, silencing the whole table. They all look at him expectantly. But Brendan only has eyes for his father. "The _fuck _did you just say?!" he spits.

There seems to be a communal intake of breath at the table.

"Brendan!" Cheryl gasps, incredulous.

Steven's voice is small as he pleads, "Brendan, don't…"

He hears Steven's voice, somewhere in the back of his mind, but it doesn't affect him. This isn't just about Steven anyway. This is all of it… every time Seamus has torn a heart apart – usually Brendan's – and managed to get away with it; his words soaring over everybody elses' heads. Brendan HATES him for it. He HATES how he does it. How he gets away with everything he does, without anybody ever knowing. How he has done for years and how that clearly hasn't changed. How he can be such fucking scum of the earth, and nobody have an inkling of it…

No. Fuck that.

And Brendan doesn't feel scared anymore. He just feels angry. Because now he's done it to Steven… and even though it's no more than a mere comment, it is still one step too far…

"Come on, what did you say?!" He demands, and even he can pick up on the tone of derangement in his own voice, but he doesn't have time to worry about that now. He doesn't have time to worry about the way the family are looking at him… even Declan and Padraig… looking at him as if he's gone mad.

Seamus frowns with a façade of well-crafted innocence, "Is there a problem, Brendan?"

"Yeah there is." Brendan hisses. He shakes his head almost manically. "Don't talk to him like that."

"Brendan, STOP IT." Steven says, with more force this time.

"Yeah Bren, SHUT UP will you?!" Cheryl's tone is angry in comparison with the anxiety of Ste's.

Instead of responding to Brendan, Seamus turns to Steven instead, and he manages to look _completely_ genuine as he says, "I'm sorry if I said anything wrong, lad… I'm not quite sure what Brendan's referring to but…"

"No, don't apologise Dad, Brendan's just had too much to drink."

"I haven't, Chez."

"Go on Eileen, carry on with what you were sayin'…"

"No!" Brendan growls, "I want this sorted!"

"Now is NOT the time!" Cheryl snaps, and her eyes bore into Brendan's furiously, "We're trying to enjoy our Christmas Eve, and I'm _not _gonna let you spoil it, Brendan Brady!"

"Calm down Chez," Seamus interjects, ever the fucking hero, "It's alright."

"It's not fucking alright!" Brendan's voice cracks alarmingly, giving away a hint of emotion he hadn't wanted to expose, "It's never been fucking alright!"

"Brendan, what's _wrong _with you?!"

"What the _hell _is your probl…"

Maggie is interrupted by a sudden smashing of glass… and a sudden scream from Eileen, and everybody turns in time to see Steven's chair scraped back… his smashed beer bottle causing the liquid to pour all over Eileen's new dress.

"Oh my God, I'm _so _sorry!" He cries.

"Uh… oh Jesus, this is _brand new!_" Eileen groans.

"Oh no!" Maggie jumps up immediately, tea-towel in hand, "Here love, it's okay, it will wipe off…"

"I'm sorry Eileen." Ste insists again. But Brendan can tell from his calm expression that he _isn't _sorry… that the bottle smashing might not have been the accident that it appears to be.

Suddenly, Maggie and Cheryl are both rallied around Eileen – and all the attention has gone from Brendan and Seamus's close-call. With no eyes on Brendan anymore, he feels his heartbeat start to slow… his breathing start to even out. Less trapped, less defensive. Still angry, but the need to FIGHT is vanishing from him.

Amongt the sudden chaos, he catches Steven's eye across the table… and they're glistening with concern. All Brendan wants to do then is bury his head in Steven's shoulder… cry, shout, scream, whatever. And the need to do so is alarming and unexpected… so much so that he's forced to tear his eyes away, to reach for the whisky.

"I think you've had enough Brendan." Seamus says darkly, "Don't you?"

But Brendan's not listening, and he gulps it back and back and back until it's burning at his throat, and there's spots in his eyes, and he lowers himself onto the sofa – away from all of them – until he can't hear or think or feel anymore, and he feels like he's drifting away.

**XOX**

**Reviews are much appreciated. I'm gonna keep this one short for guaranteed completion, so probably just a 3 or 4 chapter one.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter threeeee! Hope y'all still enjoy this. And remember, it switches POV's so this one starts with Ste's, then Brendan, then back to Ste. I don't know why I'm saying this – it's very obvious – but there we go.**

**XOX**

Brendan is drunk again by the time Ste finally manages to get him alone; safe and secure inside the confinements of the bedroom… away from a pissed-off Cheryl and eye-rolling Eileen and Maggie's relentless insistence they forget the 'tiff' and 'just have fun'. Away from the charming forgiveness of Seamus, which only seems to make Brendan drink more.

"C'mon, lie down." Ste whispers, and pushes back the covers so that Brendan can stumble his way into bed.

Brendan flops face-down onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, and when his eyes fall shut it looks like they're heavy; weighed down with the silent unspoken turmoil he's feeling. Ste pulls off Brendan's shoes one-by-one, dropping them haphazardly off the end of the bed. Brendan's completely still as he does so… as if he's drifted off; his mind disappearing into a haze where Ste can't reach him… can't understand him, no matter how desperately he wants to.

He trails his fingers gently down Brendan's spine, back and forth in what he hopes to be a comforting, soothing motion. Once again the exhilarated laughs come from outside the bedroom of the rest of the family… enjoying their Christmas Eve… blissfully unaware… or else, simply not caring. Ste doesn't know which one hurts him more. He just wants to get Brendan away from here… back to Dublin perhaps, where everything was perfect. Where it was just the two of them.

Brendan's breathing slows, and Ste figures he's passed out. He trails his fingers down Brendan's back to his trousers, and gently starts to loosen his belt – attempting to remove it without disturbing his sleeping lover. The moment is quiet and serene in comparison to the chaos that erupted only minutes earlier.

Until Brendan suddenly jerks.

He sits up immediately, his eyes wild, as there's a pain in Ste's wrist as Brendan's fingers clench determinedly around it – ripping Ste's hand away from his belt.

"What are you doing?!" Brendan's voice is panicked and rasped, and for that moment it's like he can't even see straight… can't even see that it's Ste who's with him.

"It's alright!" Ste gasps hurriedly, "I was just helpin' you get changed…"

"Steven…?" The pain in Ste's wrist eases, as Brendan's grip falters.

"Yeah," Ste whispers, "I thought you'd gone to sleep."

"…I had."

"You're not gonna be comfortable like that."

"No…"

Brendan's eyes mist over as he starts to remove his belt and trousers on his own, and Ste sees again that haunted soul behind the eyelids… his mind disappearing into a zone where Ste can't reach him.

"Sorry." Brendan whispers again, for what seems like the millionth time this weekend. His voice is barely audible.

Ste feels tears prickling in the backs of his own eyes, and his gut tightening sickeningly again, although his mind refuses to address the reason why. He just feels numb… and helpless.

"It's okay," He soothes, and helps Brendan out of his shirt before he lies back down on the bed. "It's okay, it's alright."

He chants it, like a mantra… something Amy used to do with _him_ whenever _he_ was at his lowest. And he watches as Brendan, now just in his boxers, begins to breathe easily again, his back rising and falling as he lays back to rest. Ste draws circles along Brendan's neck with the tips of his fingers… it's something Brendan sometimes does to _him_ after sex, because it makes him go to sleep quicker and Brendan doesn't like it when he rabbits on. He's never tried it the other way round, but he hopes it does the trick. He wants Brendan to sleep… to stop thinking whatever it is he's thinking… whatever's making him look so afraid and haunted like that.

But the attempt is short-lived… because they are disturbed again.

There's a small knock at the door and then Cheryl's voice through the woodwork, "Brendan? Ste? Can I talk to you for a second?"

Ste is hesitant, but he can hardly ignore her. He pulls the duvet over Brendan's resting body – give him his dignity – and then shuffles over and unlocks the door.

Cheryl smiles sheepishly at him, then her gaze moves over to her sleeping brother.

"Is he drunk?"

"He's upset, Cheryl."

"They're always like that, him and Da." She sighs innocently, "Biting each others heads off at every opportunity. They've both drunk a lot, I suppose."

"Cheryl, what do you _want_?" Ste can't keep the bite from his tone this time. He's had enough. Had enough of all of this – wants them all gone, even her.

"I've been talkin' to Mum, and she's been getting a really bad back on that sofa bed, you know, it's not a very well-made one."

"Right…"

"So I was thinking her and Dad could sleep in here tonight, and you and Bren can take the sofa?"

"Cheryl," Ste groans, "He's already asleep."

"It's only 5:30, I'm sure he'll wake up! I'm not sayin' move _now_, I'm sayin' later! I've got to wash some new bedding anyway."

"Why can't _you _swap with 'em?!"

"Hey, you! You're supposed to be a gentleman!"

"Well Brendan's not gonna wanna sleep with _me _where Dec and Padraig can walk in on us, is he?!" Ste tries… quickly running out of excuses.

Cheryl laughs at that, "Well I _hope _you'd keep yerselves decent!"

"Cheryl…"

"Oh Ste, please love, c'mon, it's only one night – and it's my parents!"

Ste draws a heavy sigh. His head is _pounding _and it's nothing to do with the drink. But he can hardly argue this out with Cheryl in her own home, can he? He's sure if Brendan was awake it would be a different story but well… if Brendan fiercely objects, he can do so later on; he stands a better chance than Ste does anyway.

"Fine. Whatever."

"Great, thank you!" She kisses him heavy-handedly on the cheek. "Are you comin' out for mince pies?"

"Maybe later."

"Alright, well don't hide away! You're supposed to be integrating, remember? Let Brendan sulk on his own!"

She sniggers mischievously; completely ignorant to her brothers state-of-mind. It looks like she expects Ste to giggle along too, and appears disgruntled when he doesn't. She probably thinks _he's _in some 'sulk' now as well. Well, whatever. Ste slams the bedroom door with enough force to prove he's pissed off… but not hard enough to wake Brendan. He reckons that Cheryl hardly notices.

XOX

Brendan is behaving like the good little Catholic boy he was bought up to be; bowing down to the demands of his parents. They're sleeping in his and Steven's bedroom tonight.

Whilst Brendan was asleep, Steven tidied away any overly-obvious evidence of domestication… for which Brendan is thankful. Steven's clothes –which he has a habit of just _chucking _into a chaotic pile in the corner – are now cleared away and stored at the bottom of Brendan's cupboard. The picture of Leah and Lucas that decorates the night-stand has been put into a drawer. It's not like Seamus doesn't _know _they're in a relationship… Brendan just prefers to not shove it down the mans throat, and he's grateful to Steven for being so acutely aware of that.

So now he bundles up the duvet and pillows, and shuffles out to join Steven on the sofa-bed. It's 11:30pm, and everybody is making their way to bed for an early night before Christmas. Maggie's impatient knock on the bedroom door had been their signal to file out.

Steven looks cute, Brendan notes, in clothes. It's a rare thing for them to go to bed wearing anything – besides Steven's standard black socks. Now he's wearing one of Brendan's oversized t-shirts and a pair of tacky old tracksuit bottoms. He's bought a tray of snacks over to the sofa like he and Brendan are at some godforsaken slumber-party. He even fashions a big grin on his face as Brendan approaches, and pats down the sofa next to him with his usual enthusiasm.

Brendan is grateful for it, as he slumps down next to him and chucks the duvet over them both.

He realises that this will be their first night with Steven staying here that they've not had sex before sleep. Quite an achievement, actually, but God knows how he's going to sleep without it – especially as he only woke up a couple of hours ago. Steven rests his head sleepily against Brendan's chest, and his arm snakes round Brendan's stomach and holds tightly. Brendan suspects this is more for his benefit than it is for Steven's. Steven has been a rock for him these past two days, and he's not going to let it go unappreciated. He plans to take him away – as _soon _as Christmas is over. They'll do their planned trip to the kids in Manchester, and then Brendan will whip him off somewhere special, where they'll stay through to the New Year. Maybe New York, he thinks; that's always special in Winter. Or a return to Dublin, where he'd never felt so happy and never seen Steven look so content. Yeah… he'll make it perfect again, like it was before.

"Wanna watch _Family Guy?" _Ste mutters through the darkness.

"Family Guy? What's that?"

Steven sits upright – looking at Brendan with nothing short of horror.

Brendan blinks. "What?"

"Family Guy!" he repeats, as if it's totally obvious.

Brendan tuts and rolls his eyes, "Yeah. What the fuck is it?"

"It's like… it's a TV show, it's legendary."

"Oh right. Sounds shit."

"You don't know what it is!"

"It's about a family guy."

"No, it's not. It's a cartoon. It's like the Simpsons but badass."

Brendan smirks. "Badass?"

"Yeah." Ste pouts defiantly; refusing to be mocked for his choice of word.

Brendan wants to suck that bottom lip right off.

For a moment… he feels normal again. Even with their exposing position in the centre of the living room, and even without their usual sex that sends them into their blissful sleep. Even with the company that this house holds at present time….. Steven still has a way of making him feel light and carefree. Perhaps there's somewhere even _better _than New York or Dublin…?

Steven puts his show on, but Brendan hardly pays attention to it. He focuses instead on watching Steven… his perfect face which poses such a distraction to the tribulations of every-day life. Every now and then Steven breaks into a fit of laughter at some joke that the fat cartoon guy has told. Brendan loves that when he laughs, it lights up his whole face – shines from his eyes. And he loves that he laughs at the most stupid of things – because this programme _is _stupid – but he won't tell him that tonight.

And when Steven's eyes start to droop shut sleepily, Brendan gathers him under his arms and pulls him against his chest. He doesn't care if Declan or Padraig see. His fingers trail absent-mindedly through the strands of Steven's hair as he starts to fall asleep against him. And when he _is _asleep, and Brendan's finally able to turn off the noise of the television, he kisses him lightly on the head – hoping that Steven can feel it in his sleep and he'll see it as a mark of Brendan's appreciation. For being so perfect in all of this.

The living room is quiet and serene, lit only by the dim red of the outdoor Christmas decorations. There's a tacky glow-up Santa out there that Brendan absolutely _detests,_ but Cheryl and Steven somehow convinced him to buy it. As his eyelids fall shut and his mind numbs into sleep, he has a small smile playing across his lips at the memory.

"_Ahhh, Bren! Bren!" Cheryl cackles in her childlike, animated way. She holds up some grotesque fat little glow-in-the-dark Santa, with an ugly face and cheap plastic body, "Look at this!"_

"_Great." Brendan grunts, decidedly unimpressed._

_He moves swiftly onwards, wanting to get this over and done with. He hates shopping, but he had to attend this trip for this exact reason; Cheryl gets distracted by anything shiny, and Steven's taste is hardly the highest of class. And Brendan, for whatever reason, likes to have a good-looking tree. If they're gonna have a damn tree, it may as well be neat and sophisticated and good-looking. Not a task best suited to these two clowns._

"_Ahhhh!" Cheryl squeals excitedly, "Ste look – it speaks!"_

_Brendan rolls his eyes as a series of crackly low-quality 'ho ho ho's proceed from the plastic fat man. It's an expression that Steven catches… and one that curiously makes him more interested in Cheryl's find._

"_Aw, we should definitely get that, Bren." He grins; the hint of mischief in his eyes._

"_We're not getting it."_

"_Aw no, it'll be perfect, that! Right outside your door!"_

"_Oh, it will Bren!" Cheryl agrees. And Brendan gets the impression she's also just doing this to wind him up. Nobody could genuinely want that thing for any other reason._

"_Put it back. I'm not payin' for it."_

"_Oh that's alright, I'll just shove it up me jumper."_

_Brendan can't help but smile at that. But he's defiant. "It's a piece of shit, an' it's givin' me the creeps; we're not gettin' it."_

_Wrong choice of phrase. _

_Because the next second the damn thing is right in his face, and Cheryl has adopted an enthusiastic coo-ing voice as she mocks, "Aw, it's okay Brendan, he only wants to be friends! Another member of our wittle family."_

"_Georrff." Brendan groans, shoving it aside._

"_Please take me home and take care of me Brendan," she imitates the plastic man, "Pleeeease."_

"_Aww." Steven plays along, holding Brendan by the arm to keep him in place. "Dead cute, innit?"_

"_No."_

"_Please Bwendan!" _

"_Shut up, Chez."_

"_Please take care of me."_

"_If you carry on, I'm cancellin' Christmas."_

"_Pleeeeease!"_

_And then Steven joins in too; thoroughly enjoying his boyfriends evident discomfort._

"_Pleeeease!"_

"_Please take care of me!"_

"_Pleeeeease Brendan!"_

"_Alright, Jesus Christ, SHUT UP." Brendan yanks the god-foresaken thing from Cheryl's hands and shoves it into the trolley. Anything to get them both to shut up and stop causing such a scene. _

_There's a silence afterwards where Steven and Cheryl look at him in shock. And then a sudden burst of laughter as they watch him strut away, Santa in toe. He maintains his swagger, but it's decidedly less convincing with that tacky piece of shit in his trolley. _

He and Steven had been official for all of two weeks at that point. And it had genuinely seemed for the first time in Brendan's life that things were going to be okay.

He slips into sleep soundly at the thought.

XOX

Steven is relaxed, his whole body heavy, his mind murky in the depths of his dreamworld. His body is snuggled warmly against Brendan's chest; covered this evening by a t-shirt that Steven would rather have off him, but will have to make do with for tonight. His feet have wrapped themselves around Brendan's so that they're a tight tangle of limbs. So that if either of them dare to move, the other will suffer for it also.

Which is why, when he feels Brendan jerk, Steven is tugged out of his sleeping state into a less-satisfactory state of in-between consciousness.

"Hurrrr." He mumbles groggily, "Whassup?"

And then Brendan jerks again… into full sitting position this time, so that Steven's head hits the sofa below him with an uncomfortable bump.

"Brenda…"

"What the _fuck _are you doing?!"

Brendan's voice cuts through him like ice. The panic in it… the fury… the detestation. Ste finds himself awake immediately, pulling himself into sitting position… looking around blearily to see what has caused Brendan's outburst.

He sees it.

Standing in the kitchen… wrapped in the darkness and only lit by the glow of the kettle… Seamus is watching them.

Ste's whole body seems to go cold in an instant, a vast tremor moving up his spine. And his fingers shake as he makes to clutch onto Brendan, and whispers…

"Brendan, don't…"

But it's too late.

Brendan rips himself from Ste's faint grasp, and he lunges across the room to where his father stands, ghost-like, in the kitchen.

"I SAID WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!"

His scream is loud enough to wake the entire house… but louder still is the furious SMACK of fist against flesh, and the WHACK of head against countertop as Seamus is knocked flying into the worktop… where he was making his cup of tea seconds before.

"BRENDAN, STOP!" Ste screams. And his head is awash with panic, with white noise… and eyesight clouded by immediate tears… and body rigid with fear and tremble.

He races across the room to where the two of them stand, but it's too late. Brendan has already packed a hard second punch that has blood burst sickeningly from Seamus's mouth… staining the tiles around them.

And everything seems to blur as Maggie rushes from the bedroom, and Cheryl from the staircase, with Declan and Eileen right behind her… and Brendan punches again… and the room is suddenly filled with screams and shrieks of anguish and fury.

"BRENDAN, STOP IT!"

"CALL THE POLICE!"

"DAD, DON'T!"

"STE, STOP HIM!"

"GET OFF HIM, YOU FREAK!"

"DAD, PLEASE!"

Ste wrestles with him… and Cheryl too… both fighting against Brendan's strength to drag him away from what is now an unmoving body on the floor.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ste can hear Maggie crying down a phone…

"Police please. Hollyoaks… I… I need you here IMMEDIATELY! He's gone crazy!"

"GET OFF ME!" Brendan sobs, and he fights hard against Ste's hold, with his blooded fists flailing about manically, like he's desperate to keep hitting… to keep destroying… to kill.

"That's enough now!" Ste hears himself beg through a wash of tears, "Please, Bren, PLEASE!"

"GET THE FUCK OFF!"

"Dad, stop it!" Declan is crying too; Ste can hear it in his voice. And Padraig is now sat, terrified, at the top of the stairs – not daring to come any nearer. And Eileen's boyfriend has his arm wrapped comfortingly around the lads shoulders… protecting him from the insanity of his own _real _father.

"Brendan!" Ste croaks, "Please, I'm beggin' ya."

He can't get to Seamus now anyway – not with Eileen and Maggie and Cheryl all crowded around him, shrieking with fear and horror as they observe his bloody, wounded face.

"Dad, wake up!" Cheryl sobs, "Oh God, wake up!"

"Lets go outside…" Ste pants, pulling Brendan away… away… away, like he's always needed to be. "C'mon, _please, _come with me."

Somehow… despite Brendan's manic determination and strength… Ste manages to get him outside the front door, and slams it shut behind him so that Brendan couldn't get back inside if he tried.

He watches through a hazy blur of white-noise as Brendan collapses in a heap against the doorstep, and his body shakes against the efforts to hide his tears, to hide his anguish, because he's _still _trying to hide it from Ste, _still _trying to protect him from something it's becoming impossible to protect him from.

Ste can hear sirens, and he knows their time is running out.

He bends low to Brendans' level, and with the last of his strength his lifts him into a fierce hug where he clings on tightly. He would cling on forever if he could – if he thought it could protect Brendan from this pain… from these memories and fears that corrupt him. From _that man _inside, who right now, Ste can't help but _hope _is dead. He can't help but want him _gone _from Brendans life and _for good _this time.

"I love you." He whispers.

Brendan sniffs, and his voice is flat and worn as he croaks back, "I love you too."

The sirens are drawing closer, and Ste hastily removes Brendan's cross from his own neck. Brendan gave it to him a couple of months ago, to protect him from what had then been an almost-inevitable fate. But Ste had survived it. And Brendan vows to this day that the cross is the reason. But Brendan needs it so much more now.

"Here," he whispers, as he fastens the thing back around the neck of its first owner, "The police are comin', Bren."

"I know."

"I need ya to be strong for me, yeah? Don't let 'em see you like this."

Perhaps Brendan is rubbing off on him, but Ste doesn't want to give anyone the pleasure of seeing him as the wreck that he is tonight. He knows Brendan doesn't want it either. Brendan is tough. He is a fighter. And he will present himself as that to them.

"There's a present for you," Brendan whispers, "Under the bed. Take it – then go to Manchester. Get away from here. I'll come find ye there."

"Ok." Ste nods.

"Tell Cheryl I'm sorry."

"Ok."

"An' there's presents for the boys under the tree – they've already been sniffin' round them."

"Yeah, I know."

"And presents for Leah and Lucas – don't forget to take them…"

Brendan's monosyllabic reeling off of instructions is interrupted as the sirens scream loudly from just below the steps, and then silence. Brendan grips onto Ste tightly… as though it's the last time he'll get to do so.

He doesn't let go until the police are all the way up the steps, and physically forcing them apart.


	4. Chapter 4

**Tough chapter to write, this one. Stick with it though.**

**XOXOX**

It's surreal. Like now, all of a sudden, he's surrounded by strangers and unwelcome surroundings. The flat that has become like a home to him over the last month feels cold and unaccommodating. Brendan's family, for their part, ignore him completely as they tend to the broken bloody wounds of Seamus and fret over how long the paramedics are taking.

"It's icy outside." Ste reasons shakily to Cheryl, attending to his promise to look after her, "They'll be here soon."

"Well the police managed to get here on time!"

"Hm." Ste doesn't really have an answer to that. He thinks of Brendan now; broken, destroyed and in the back of a police car, trying to hide his pain. When what he really needs is to be _here_, with Ste, cuddled up on the sofa again. Ste just wants to go back in time – take it all back. He wants to stop it happening – Seamus watching them from the kitchen… Brendan seeing… Brendan freaking.

Ste's never seen him like that; not ever. Sure, he's seen him angry, furious, violent. He's seen all the ugly colours to Brendan that there are too see. But this was different. There was something so pained, so tragic about this… it makes him feel physically sick to remember it.

His hands shake violently and he curls them into balls and shoves them in his pockets. All he wants now is to be in his and Brendan's bedroom, away from these people, hidden beneath the shelter of the bed-covers. But even that is not their room anymore. Even that has been tainted by Seamus's sickly scent.

It is 3:18am when the paramedics arrive, and by that point Seamus's eyelids have cracked open. They're bloody and bruised, and his left eye squints and twitches a bit. But he's alive. He continues to breathe; to spread his vermin.

"Boy went mad." He grunts, his voice strained in pain. "I dunno what happened – I was makin' tea and he just…"

"He's not well, Da." Cheryl sighs miserably.

"He needs to be locked away." Eileen's boyfriend says darkly. "To do that to an old man – could've killed him."

"_Would've _killed him." Maggie sniffs, wiping her tears, "Oh God, where did we go wrong?! Why is he like this? What happened?!"

Ste can't take it… them all talking about Brendan like this. They're all rallied round, ready for his blood. Their hands stroke and pander to Seamus gently, willing him to health.

"Maybe you don't know the full story." He croaks flatly.

For the first time, Maggie and the others turn to look at him. It's like they'd forgotten he was there; the intruder upon their fucked-up family.

"Well Steven," Maggie says with a bitterness she no longer bothers to hide, "Maybe you'd like to tell us all the full story. Explain why he tried to _kill _my husband."

"Oh c'mon, anyone can see Brendan's fucked-up about him – there's got to be a reason! And don't give me the alpha male shit – it's more than that!" Ste finds himself shouting, and his voice cracks highly, exposing his upset.

Seamus squints in his direction and speaks lowly, "Are ye suggestin' I did somethin' to deserve this, _Steven?_"

Ste takes a deep breath. Everyone is staring at him; Cheryl, Seamus, the paramedics.

"Yeah I am." He breathes.

There is a moments silence. A sharp intake of breath, and for a moment everybody looks too shocked, too horrified to have truly processed the magnitude of that statement. They seem genuinely thrown. It takes some time for their expressions of surprise to turn into those of horror, anger… then fury.

"Cheryl," Maggie says, venom underlying her voice, "I want him out of here."

"I'm not goin'." Ste finds himself responding weakly.

"I said GET OUT, YOU VILE LITTLE CHAV!" Maggie is hysterical now, tears spilled all over her cheeks, voice high and frenzied. She's beside herself – absolutely lost in her own turmoil. A state of heightened emotion that doesn't quite fit with her husbands injuries… emotions that exceed what is called for… like she's feeling something else too… something alarming. And Ste wonders for a moment whether she's the same as him – stuck in the middle of a terrible situation… suspecting things she can't bear to suspect…

"Ste, I think you should go." Cheryl says fiercely.

"Calm down Cheryl, the lad's just confused, that's all." Seamus reasons. It's fake. Ste can see it – why can't they?! Deceit and cruelty pores from his every vein.

"No, I'm not confused!" Adrenaline is pushing Ste forward now. Tears are in his eyes, but his voice is strong as he demands, "WHY were you watchin' us?!"

"What?" Maggie cries, "How DARE you!"

But Ste ignores her. He pushes past the paramedics, looks Seamus right in the eye. "I asked you a question!"

"This is outrageous, who do you think you are to-"

"SHUT UP!" Ste finds himself screaming in Maggie's direction, stunning her into silence. He turns back to Seamus, "Answer me!"

"I think you better calm down, lad." Seamus rasps.

"No, don't do that." Ste shakes his head, and he feels manic… feels all eyes on him and knows this isn't going to end well, and yet he can't stop… he has to do this, "I saw you, Brendan saw you – you were watchin' us, and that's what upset 'im."

"It's hard not to glance that way when my son's wrapped up with another _man, _isn't it?! If ye can call yourself that."

"No, it WASN'T that! You weren't just _glancin', _you were…"

"What?!" Seamus demands. "C'mon lad, what is it you think I was doin' exactly?"

The trembles and shivers are coming back to Ste's body, and his head is spinning, and he can't handle this… can't process it all… He feels too sick, and he can't say the words – can't even bring himself to think them.

"You're disgustin'." He breathes finally, "And it's too bad he didn't kill ya."

That's it. He's said enough.

He turns on his heel, and somewhere in the back of his mind he can hear Maggie screaming abuse at him, and Cheryl too, and Eileen – they're all shouting, but he can barely hear them.

He heads out the front door, falls to his knees, and he retches all over the front doorstep. His entire body feels weak and exhausted. His brain reeling. His stomach churning. And all he knows is that he wants to be with Brendan; to hold him tight and not let him go and - if he can - find a cure for all the wrongs that were done to him.

He can hear the distant sounds of club stragglers on their way home, singing Christmas songs and wishing each other a merry holiday as they retreat to their beds.

He could go home too. His dank little council flat, which has been empty and unused now for a good couple of weeks straight.

But he knows he can't go there; he has to go to the police station. Even if it's through a glass barrier, he's going to spend Christmas with the man he loves this year.

XOXOX

Spending Christmas Day in a prison cell. Perfect. That's just fucking brilliant. And today of all days, Brendan had wanted to do right by Steven. He'd had everything ready – the shitty decoy presents like the clothes and the underwear and the aftershave and playstation games, then the sentimental present: the whisky they'd first drunk together. And then the surprise present: the car keys. He'd arranged for the car to be parked round the corner, under the club, and he was going to go down at 6:00am to put the card on the dashboard with the dirty limerick in it. He could picture Steven's surprised and awestruck face when he saw it. He could picture the hefty reward afterwards in the bedroom. He could picture Steven in the drivers seat the next day, on the way to Manchester, and then showing it off to the kids: _"I can come see ya whenever I want now!"._

But now that's all gone to shit, and it's all Brendan's fault. His fucking temper has landed him _here, _on a day Steven had not long ago declared would be 'special' and 'perfect'.

"Fuck." He grunts, and slams his fist hard against the wall.

His father… Seamus… is nothing. He's scum, but he was not worth losing Steven over, not now or ever. He's a hazy dark figment of the past; the devil, the corrupter… but the present is different and _Brendan_ is different, and this kind of shit shouldn't be happening anymore.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He mumbles again.

There's nothing he can do about it. He's trapped here, like a caged animal. Steven will go to Manchester without him, where Amy will point out that this is _proof _Brendan has not changed. She will tell Steven he's better off rid. He'll probably argue, but it will all be for nothing anyway, because Brendan heavily suspects he's going away for a long time for this.

Seamus will press charges. And if he doesn't, Maggie will. Probably Cheryl too, who must hate him to the very core now. Nobody hurts Daddy – not anybody. Brendan will be lucky if he ever sees her again.

He presses his fingers tightly to the cross around his neck. But even this makes him feel cold and selfish – it's not for him. He'd still rather Steven have it, and feels guilty for having taken it during that emotional daze that he was in.

"Hey!" He calls out groggily, "I want… I want my phonecall. Please. I want my phonecall now."

XOXOX

Apparently it is against the rules; Ste cannot see Brendan until Brendan has been in questioning and, being Christmas Day, that's not going to happen. He'll be questioned tomorrow earliest, and then if he's lucky he'll be let out on bail – if he's lucky. Ste had found himself swearing and shouting at this bearer of bad news; behaving like the 'vile little chav' he'd not so long ago been accused of.

"Well FUCK SAKE!" He'd ranted, "Merry fuckin' Christmas to you too! Fuckin' arsehole! That's my boyfriend in there, yeah?! And he ain't done anythin' wrong!"

"My Hay, we suggest you _calm down _and go home; we'll be able to give you more news tomorrow."

"Yeah. Brilliant. Thanks for nothin'. Yer all useless, you, ye know that?! What, you can't even change the rules on Christmas Day?!"

"Mr Hay,I must insist…"

"Yeah, I heard ya the first time. Fuckin' hell!" He'd snapped, bitterly.

Truth was, he just needs outlet. He wants to shout and scream and cry and punch and kick and destroy. His high-impact emotions are next unleashed upon an unsuspecting post-box, which he kicks with such force that he breaks his toe.

"FUCK!" He screams out in pain, clasping hold of his foot, tears dribbling from his eyes, "Arrrgghh FUCK!"

But there is nobody here to hear him. Nobody around at all – the streets are empty and the people are all inside their houses together; laughing, loving, exchanging presents. Doing exactly what Ste wanted to be doing with Brendan. They're all happy and untroubled, like he wants Brendan to be. Like he deserves to be, but was never given the chance of being.

Ste finds the only open newsagents he can and buys a pack of lagers. He sits on a bench outside the station, back pressed up against the station wall, and chugs one back with desperation. He doesn't know why he's doing this… he knows he shouldn't; it's not helping anybody. But then, who has he got to help? Brendan is unobtainable. So he gulps back a second, and a third. He throws them back until he feels numb, and more importantly, until those awful gut-feelings stop eating away at him.

After a while, he lets his instinct take over, and his feet carry him back to the council flat. But he must be dreaming, because as he turns the corner onto his street, he can hear a low Irish drawl. It's distant… but the accent is clear. But… it couldn't be, could it?

"I can't leave without sayin' my goodbyes lad; that'd be rude."

Ste blinks slightly, alcohol slowing him. "Brendan?"

A low chuckle, "That's rich, isn't it? Comin' from you."

Ste knows it's not Brendan before he even turns the corner. But that still doesn't soften the impact of seeing Seamus there – standing on the doorstep of his home like this. God knows how he found it… God knows how he's not in hospital… God knows who he's talking to on that phone…

His eyes land on Ste immediately, and there's a glint there – a hint of malicious intent, of danger that he doesn't need to suppress anymore.

"Nice of ye to call, Brendan." He says lowly into the phone, "I best be goin' now though."

Whatever fury Ste's feeling immediately vanishes, and he rushes towards Seamus eagerly.

"Is that Brendan?!" He slurs clumsily, "Lemme talk to 'im!"

Seamus holds the mobile out of reach, shutting it down immediately, "Didn't ye mother ever tell ye it's rude to snatch, boy?" He leers.

"Give me it!" He demands, fury back.

"He's gone."

"Why's he callin' you?!"

"Wanted me to check up on ye."

"No." Ste shakes his head insistently, "You're a liar. An' if your not gonna tell me, then whatever. But _get off _me doorstep."

He gives Seamus a hard shove, but his body doesn't budge. Funny, he went down a lot more easily with Brendan – almost giving off the impression of being frail. But he is anything but, even in his current beaten and bruised state.

"Yer quite a feisty one, aren't ye Steven?" He says seriously.

"I'm warnin' you, yeah? I'll call the police."

"And say what exactly?"

Ste's eyes darken. There is a dark growl in the pit of his stomach, and it seems to speak for him… before his brain has even had time to comprehend his guts revelation.

"I know what you did."

Now it's Seamus' turn for the darkened expression. His eyes flash dangerously.

"I don't know what yer talkin' about."

"You make me sick." Ste says weakly. And he feels weak… because he hadn't admitted it before… not in his head even, let alone out-loud. But he knows. He's known for some time; he's seen it all in Brendan's vacant eyes and the tremor of his body. He knows what Seamus did, and the very thought of it gives him feelings that are nothing short of _murderous. _Of lethal, brutal, bloody murder. "Now get lost – I'm warnin' ya."

"Brendan's been spreadin' his lies again, I see. Got you wrapped around his little finger, hasn't he?"

"No, FUCK OFF!" Ste shouts, for what feels like the millionth time today. But this time there are no tears; he will not let this man watch him cry, because he can only suspect it's what a man like this thrives off. "Do NOT talk about him, alright?! You don't get to! Get out of my way!"

He tries to slam his front door, and slam it hard – anything to escape the contamination of the air around this man. He needs to get away… to breathe… but Seamus's foot is in the door.

"I wanted to talk to ye, lad."

"Seriously," Ste rages, "Don't make me do somethin' I'll regret!"

Seamus actually laughs at that. Laughs. Right in Ste's face. And it's cold, and full of malice, as he leers "Think yer hard, do ye? Why's that then? Brendan's cock up your arse, an' suddenly you're a big man?"

"_Fuck you_."

"I have to say, I'm impressed though, Steven. Honestly. I never expected 'im to be settled down with anyone. Not our Brendan."

"No, he's not _yours_."

"He's mine; he's my flesh an' blood. And anything ye think I did, I did because he was a bad'n, n' he needed discipline."

Ste shakes his head manically, refusing to hear this. And the panic is rising in him as the sickness fills him to the stomach, and he's sure he's going to retch at any moment – unable to bear hearing these words. Dizziness overtakes him, and the drink churns around his belly. A harsh buzzing in his eyes and in his ears seems to completely overtake him, and he tries once again to slam the door shut – only now Seamus's whole body is in the way as he pushes his way into the flat.

"GET OUT!" Ste hears himself scream, but it feels as if it's from a distance.

"My family is very important to me, Steven, I don't have to tell ye that."

"You don't deserve to 'ave a family."

"That was Brendan on the phone jus' now, tellin' me he wants me to leave. He wants me to leave Cheryl and Maggie – but I can't do that."

"No, if you loved 'em, you would." Ste tries to reason; trying to find logic among the wash of panic that floods his mind.

"I do love them, very much."

"You don't know the meanin' of the word. Now _leave!_"

Driven by the panic of claustrophobia, Ste attempts again to shove him away again. He can't bear it… can't bear to be near him… not in his own home. He just wants to shut him out, and the rest world, and just cry… melt.

But Seamus is not budging, not even slightly. He's drawing ever closer, and even though he's no more than 5 inches taller than Ste, he seems like a giant, like he's _towering _over him. He's so close, Ste can feel his breath. And its like in a flash, he somehow _is _Brendan… he somehow _is _that child that cowers in the corner; victimised and patronised and panicking and terrified.

"I don't want anything to hurt my family, Steven. Not anything or anyone." Seamus breathes quietly; his voiced laced with an icy, calm undertone. "Now Cheryl and Maggie, they're very confused. They wanna know why ye said what ye did – Cheryl thinks yer a nice little boy, and she's very upset. And I hate to see my little girl upset."

Ste feels his back hit the wall. The back of his neck feels cold with sweat, and his stomach tight with anguish. He has no more words; he feels if he opened his mouth now he'd be sick, or he'd scream, and neither sounds appealing.

"You'd understand; you're a father yourself." Seamus adds lightly, "Leah and Lucas – Cheryl's told me all about them. She's very fond of them."

A small smile plays across Seamus's face as he talks about Cheryl, and for the first time it seems genuine. But Ste can't stand it – not in the same breath of air as his children's names. To hear them play across Seamus's lips, it's too much… it's too far. His mind is awash with their faces, and with Brendan's… and Brendan being a child.. . and this man… _this man…_

He's not even thinking. His knee comes up hard into the air, and meets sharply with Seamus's groin, and the man doubles over, coughing and spluttering against the pain.

"You do _NOT_ talk about MY KIDS!" Ste rages, his eyesight clouded by tears that he tries hard to blink back, "D'ya hear me?! You are _scum_! And them, they're too good for… they're…" He splutters, unable to find the words, "P…People like you… they should be dead, they shouldn't be allowed to live!"

Ste continues to scream out the abuse, even as Seamus's hands wrap hard around his neck…even as he's dragged to the floor. He can hardly feel it; so blind he is with anger. And the harder Seamus fights to shut him up, the more Ste knows his words are hitting the spot, and he continues…

"You… you are _sick _and C…Cheryl would be better off without you! S…She should KNOW what fuckin' scum you are!"

He can't tell whether he's shouting or sobbing. He can't tell whether he's choking or screaming. The hands around his neck tighten, and he can't make noise anymore, and he sees spots in his eyes, and everything is fading out of focus. He can feel flesh clenched under his own fingertips, but everything is a blur. And he can hear a voice, faint and growing fainter, leering…

"Shame to lose such a pretty face."

But the voice is nothing but a weak interruption, because all he can see now is Brendan, growing out of the bright white glare. And the flesh that bleeds under his fingertips becomes something he clings to… and his mind flashes back to that time in hospital… when he hung similarly between breathing and not breathing. And there he was… Brendan… hand wrapped tightly inside and around Ste's own. And in that moment where he clung to life by the tips of his fingers, Ste had _known, _known that Brendan was all he wanted. He knows that now too. And he's doing this for him. And if he's dying, it's for him. Will always be for him.

"Dad…" he can hear Leah's voice echoing around his head, and feels a smile grace his lips. His baby girl, who he loves.

"DAD, STOP IT!" Leah's voice distorts… deranged and warped… like it's coming from a different person. No… he doesn't want that… he wants his little girl… he wants to hear her one last time…

"I SAID STOP!" The shrill shriek of Cheryl Brady. Hands disappearing from around his neck. And then everything goes black.

**XOXOX**

**Bleurrrhhh! =S**

**Thanks for all your lovely reviews so far, I really appreciate every one of them.**


	5. Chapter 5

**This starts a good 8 hours or so after where we left off. **

**XOXOXO**

"I… I… I can't understand it." Cheryl stammers through trembling lips, rubbing her red tear-stained eyes, "He… that's not my Dad; he doesn't act like that… he… I…"

The police watch her patiently, waiting for her to pull some kind of conclusion together.

"Ste said some… some pretty nasty things about him – before." She explains dully, "And Dad… he was just attacked; he can't have been thinking straight… he could have had concussion or anything. He wouldn't let the paramedics take him to hospital, see."

She wipes her nose with her sleeve.

"Where is he? My Dad?"

"He's being questioned by police."

"And Ste?"

"In hospital."

"And where's Brendan?"

"He's been released on bail on account of your father _withdrawing_ the statement against him."

Cheryl nods. "Does he know where Ste is?"

"I believe so, Miss Brady."

"Does he know it was my Dad that did it to him?"

"Yes."

Cheryl looks startled, and pleads with conviction, "Please keep my Dad safe, please! You have to believe me; he's never done anything like this, but Brendan – he's gonna be furious."

"We are observing the situation very carefully, Miss Brady." The policeman says, "Trust us; this is not an investigation we're taking lightly."

Something in the officers' tone tells Cheryl there's more to it than he's letting on. They're investigating two examples of assault… the sort of thing that happens all the time… the sort of thing that – unfortunately – Cheryl has watched the police deal with before in relation to Brendan, or Joel. But they never usually look _this _severe. They never usually take it _this _seriously. There's like, what, five police officers here? Why?

Maggie also seems to have noticed and rises to her feet.

"Is there something you need to tell us?" She says weakly. "You've had Seamus in there for hours – are you telling me this is _just _cos of a stupid fight with a queer?"

The officer frowns, disapproving. "He _strangled _him to unconsciousness, Mrs Brady."

"It was self defence!" Maggie shrieks, "You heard him! He _told _you! That lad Ste attacked him!"

"Mum, come on." Cheryl mutters slowly, "Let the police do their job."

It doesn't make sense… none of this. Ste wouldn't _attack _her Dad, would he? But her Dad would NEVER try and hurt Ste unless it _was _for something like self-defence. Why would he _do _that?! Why was this _happening? _What on Earth was going on, and why were they keeping her Dad so long… an old man, probably confused, on Christmas Day as well.

Something's not right. Cheryl can feel in her gut that something is very very wrong, and the sickness in her stomach grows as she realises she might not get to see her father again tonight. But she wants answers. Now.

"I'm going to the hospital." She announces shakily.

"Cheryl, shouldn't we wait for your Dad?"

"No, I need to speak to Ste." She says adamantly, "I… I need to speak to Brendan."

XOXOX

"I can't believe you've done this." Brendan breathes.

He's struck hard between wanting to hold Steven close, protect him, guard him… and wanting to scream at him for being so fucking _stupid. _And he can't choose which one to do, so stands there in limbo and watches Steven in his hospital bed, his eyes filled with regretful, sorrowful tears.

"I'm so sorry." Steven croaks pitifully, "Brendan I'm sorry, I am. I wasn't thinkin' straight."

"You've fucked things up."

"No," Steven shakes his head adamantly, "I'll fix it. I promise."

"You can't."

"No, I can. Please, just let me try."

"It's over." Brendan croaks, disbelieving. "You've told the police. It's all over. Cheryl will find out… they'll ask questions… it'll go to court."

"Brendan, he tried to kill me." Ste whispers, tears spilling down his cheeks. "And I was on antibiotics… and the police came and were askin' all these questions and… I'm so sorry; it just came out."

"You should have left it to me." Brendan groans, head in hands. "I'd have made him pay for what he did to you, but you didn't have to do _this. _This – really?!"

"I just want to help you."

"WELL YOU'VE DONE THE OPPOSITE!" Brendan screams.

Ste flinches, and more tears run from his eyes, falling to his chin and drawing Brendan's attention to the black bruising around Steven's neck. The marks of Seamus's hands. Where Seamus tried to take Steven away, and if it hadn't been for Cheryl walking in… would have managed it.

It makes Brendan's stomach churn. It makes him want to hold Steven and never let go, to kiss him and keep him safe – not make him cry. But these opposing emotions are fucking up his head, because the other part of him can't stand to _look _at Steven right now. And when did Steven find out about what Seamus did to him anyway? How long has he known? He was never supposed to know. And now the gobby shite has told the police, and Brendan feels his whole world is about to come crashing down around him.

"I don't want the police involved." He admits quietly, his voice breaking in the tense air.

"N…no, but… it'll be okay; I'll make it all okay." Steven whispers, "Please – you're not gonna finish with me, are ya?"

Brendan opens his mouth immediately to answer what is a completely ridiculous question – but before the words are out, the door flies open.

Cheryl stands in the doorway, her face red and blotchy, making Brendan's heart sink and chest tighten and voice-box wither and shrivel to nothing. The whole room is held in ice silence for a minute as the three of them review each other, and Ste hastily wipes his tears out of Cheryl's sight.

"I want answers." She breathes.

"Ch…Chez listen…" Brendan starts, but his voice is rasped and he finds he can barely speak. How the fuck is he EVER EVER going to explain to his little sister what her perfect daddy did to him? He should NEVER be in a position where he has to. This is what he ALWAYS wanted to avoid. She should NEVER have to know – not Cheryl. Not Cheryl, who was perfect in her bubble; blissfully ignorant, as she should always be.

"What have you told the police?!" Cheryl demands at Ste, "What have you told the police about my Dad? What are they questioning him about?!"

"Chez, he attacked Steven." Brendan says. Over Cheryl's shoulder he catches Steven's eye but quickly looks away. This is _his_ fault. His fault that Cheryl's whole life and childhood is about to face an abrupt and horrible showdown.

"But it's more than that – they're questioning him about more than that, I know they are!" Cheryl cries.

When she receives no answer from either of them, she seems to grow more distraught and pitifully hopeless.

"Tell me." She begs. "One of you – PLEASE!"

She's chosen Steven as the more likely of the two to speak up, and stares him directly in the eye, rounding on him.

"I can't." He sniffs weakly.

"What did you say to my Dad to make him hurt you like that?!"

"I didn't say anything to him."

"You must have said SOMETHING, Ste!" She cries, "My Dad doesn't DO that – he doesn't HURT people!"

"Cheryl, how can you even SAY that?!"

"Steven, shut up." Brendan warns.

"He's not a bad man!" Cheryl reasons.

"Chez, look at the state of him!" Brendan snaps, pointing to the fresh bruises on Steven's neck. He doesn't know what he's doing; he feels schizophrenic. His need to defend Steven is on par with his need to protect Cheryl and he feels dizzy with it all. "Dad did this to him. You saw it with yer own eyes."

"There's something you're not telling me." Cheryl whispers, "I can see there is, Bren, and I want to know what it is."

"Look, go home. Be with Maggie."

"Not until you _tell me!_"

"Later. Please. Later, okay? I promise."

Cheryl's stare is unwavering. Her mouth opens and closes… struck for a response.

"Just let me be with Steven now, please." Brendan says earnestly. He feels tired and defeated.

"I'm coming back in the morning." Cheryl says plainly.

"Okay."

"Don't think I'm letting this go, Brendan. I can't."

"I know you can't."

"He's my Dad!" Cheryl's voice shakes as she holds back the tears. Brendan's heart pangs in empathy for her.

"I know." He breathes sadly, "I know Chez. I'll sort this."

After that, there is no more to say. Cheryl's eyes trail momentarily down to the bruising on Steven's throat. Perhaps, just for a moment, an apology plays on her lips. But she can't bring herself to say it because - just as Brendan suspected - her alliance will always be with her father. It doesn't matter what she sees him do; she'll excuse him. Whether her alliance will continue once the police tell her of his other crimes, Brendan can hardly bear to think.

When she leaves the room she leaves behind an uncertain and overpowering silence. Steven's eyes stay fixed on his own clenched fists; his eyelids flickering with the efforts to keep any more tears from falling. He looks broken. He looks about as broken as Brendan feels. And despite Brendan still hating what has happened as a result of Steven's big mouth, he finds himself gravitating instinctively to Steven's side… wrapping his arms around him. Steven clasps back, a breath of relief releasing from him.

"I'm sorry." He whimpers again.

"Forget it."

"No, I meant what I said Brendan; I _am _gonna fix this."

"Let him get locked up." Brendan says flatly. "It's either that or I kill 'im."

"Don't say that."

"He shouldn't have laid a finger on ye."

Steven sniffs. His body shakes slightly inside Brendan's firm grasp.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He whispers eventually, "Brendan, why didn't you tell me what he did to you?"

Brendan thinks about that for a moment. Why? Because to say it out loud is a contamination. A contamination he doesn't want Steven affected by, same as he doesn't want Cheryl affected by it. To say it out loud is a confirmation that what he endured as a child – what he shut away in the dark corners of his mind – _actually _happened to him. It's a reminder of the freak he is, and he wants to remind Steven of that as _little_ as possible, because it makes their relationship vulnerable. Because he wants to be normal. He wants to get away with living this 'normal' life for as long as possible; his normal disguise in his normal relationship. He wants to be Steven's hero, not somebody Steven pities or doesn't understand.

"I don't know." He croaks in response.

And Steven accepts his answer. With just a small nod of the head he slows Brendan's heart from its racing, aching, speeded-up rate.

"C'mon," He grunts, releasing himself from Steven's arms, "Lets get you home."

XOXOX

As soon as they'd arrived home they'd fallen straight into bed; both emotionally and physically exhausted. Ste had hastily managed to change the sheets beforehand, following from Seamus's stay in their bed. Eileen, her boyfriend, and the boys were still in the house but were already upstairs asleep by the time Ste and Brendan had gotten back from the hospital, thank goodness.

It's the dead of night now, and Ste assumes Brendan is asleep. They've been here hours, wrapped in the darkness and solitude, and allowing Seamus's absence to both sooth them, and consume their minds with worries. Ste slips in and out of light sleep, but nothing to cure the fatigue.

Brendan's voice is quiet and strained when it whistles through the darkness.

"My nana knew about it."

Ste stirs, pulling himself into full alert consciousness. He can't see Brendan at all in the pitch black… he can only feel the skin of his leg entwined in his own. But he doesn't dare turn on the lamp. He stays dead silent, and eventually Brendan continues…

"She knew the whole time what he was doin' to me, and she did nothin'."

Ste reaches out and somehow finds Brendan's hand beneath the covers. He takes it gently. Hopes that that may be enough.

"She helped him." Brendan croaks dully, "She helped him keep it a secret. She helped him get his _fix._"

Ste's heart pounds so hard he wonders whether Brendan can hear it. The more he learns about all of this, the more sick and violated he feels – but he doesn't need Brendan to know that. He needs to be _strong _for him. So he keeps quiet; knowing that if he speaks now that the quiver of his voice will give away his emotions. He just claps Brendan's hand tighter.

"She pretended to love me, though." Brendan says simply.

And then his hand falls limp inside of Ste's. Like he's detaching. And Ste can't let that happen.

He swallows hard, suppressing his emotions and the tears in his voice, and actually manages to sound levelled and strong as he says, "She was probably scared."

"Does that excuse it?"

"No." Ste replies adamantly. "No, and she needs to be punished."

"She's dead."

Another fierce silence fills the room. Ste won't press on with the matter, but something in Brendan's tone makes him feel uneasy about that last statement. Perhaps in his gut he knows why, but now is not the time for it.

"Brendan, I love you." Ste whispers, only because he feels it _needs _to be said; that Brendan _needs _to hear it. Even if it means nothing to him, because no doubt Seamus and his nana spieled off the same statement to him in the past. "I want to help with this any way I can."

"Ye can't help." Brendan says, "Ye can't go back in time."

"No, but we can get justice."

"What, stand in a court and tell them where Daddy touched me?"

Hearing Brendan say it so cold and bluntly makes Ste shiver. Part of him wants to turn the light on now – break the spell. But at the same time he _knows _Brendan needs to talk about this… knows he's _never ever _in all his life spoken out-loud about it before. He knows this is something Brendan has carried from the tender age of eight or younger; too afraid, too ashamed to confess it. If he can do so now, here in safe arms and safe darkness, then Ste needs to stomach it and let him.

Brendan is crying when he next speaks, and pleads for an answer that Ste can't give.

"Why did they do that to me?"

Ste feels tears sting his own eyes again and shuffles closer to his partner, arms wrapped round and foreheads touching, and soft light kisses pressing against Brendan's face.

"I don't know." He breathes honestly.

"The FUCK did I do wrong?!" Brendan spits. His fury is pronounced by a violent tremor of his body, but then disintegrates as quickly as it came… back into nothing but sadness and confusion. Like a little boy, more than Ste's strong, powerful, fearless Brendan Brady.

He doesn't speak again for the rest of the night, but Ste doubts that he sleeps either.


	6. Chapter 6

**I know nothing about police, or lawyers or court-cases - and this story ran off in its own direction and hence it's become impossible for me to avoid such subjects. So forgive me if it's all bullshit, because that's very possible. We'll call it artistic license, shall we?**

**Hell, if Mercedes and Browning can escape prison in the actual show, I sure as hell can do what I like.**

**XOXOXOX**

There's a harsh buzzing in Brendan's ears as he circles the kitchen, vulture-like. The noise of the kettle distorts in his mind maddeningly. The words of the lawyer pierce his skull like a violent nail, and he struggles to give the man his whole attention although logic tells him that this is an important conversation.

Seamus's lawyer is cold; pure-business. He speaks not in the tone of a man addressing the rape-charges of a man against a small boy, but he speaks with the casualness of a man trying to cut to the chase in securing a financial agreement.

"Seamus dropped the assault charges against you." He speaks coolly, "Now, if – in return – you should decide to drop the abuse charges against _him_… and should your partner decide to drop the charges of his _own_ vendetta, we can come to some sort of quick agreement, and leave all of this behind us."

Brendan's breathing feels shallow. He knew there was a catch somewhere when he was released from prison following his violent attack on his father in the dead of night. He swallows thickly. He should have known really, but everything had been so fucked-up and distorted he'd barely thought about it. Logic was replaced with grief when he'd seen Steven, strangled unconscious, in his hospital bed.

"That's what you want isn't it, Mr Brady?" The lawyer continues, "You want to avoid the court trial, which is likely to drag on for months with a case like this. Avoid a sentence of your own… most likely attempted murder, given the aggressive nature of your fathers wounds. We nip this in the bud, you never see your father again and we call it a day."

Somewhere, numbly, Brendan feels himself nodding.

"How much?" His voice is rasped. He wore himself out last night, wrapped in darkness, sobbing shamelessly into Steven's shoulder.

"I'm sorry?"

"How much do you want?"

The lawyer catches on. He's careful – suspiciously careful – with his words.

"Let me sort out a price with your solicitor."

"You don't have much time." Brendan speaks dryly, "I'm leavin'."

"Leaving? Leaving where?"

"None of your business."

"You can not leave the country in the middle of a police investigation – you do know that, don't you?"

"Thanks, but I'll be takin' advice from _my _lawyer – not Seamus's."

The lawyers expression darkens. He opens his mouth to reply, but before he can do so the front door slams open and Steven bustles in, arms filled with shopping bags. He looks cold and flustered, and his appearance immediately cuts the tension in the air… Brendan releases a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Steven however, only tenses upon laying eyes on the lawyer.

"Hello…" he says suspiciously.

"Steven, this is Mr Fuck-Knows-What. He's just leaving."

"Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine."

"Actually," the lawyer cuts in, "Mr Hay, if I could have a word…"

"No." Brendan says sharply. "You can talk to his lawyer. Mine will give you the details."

"My…" Ste frowns, confused, "Right… my lawyer." He shoots Brendan a look that begs for explanation.

"It's just about the charges." Brendan clarifies, and pulls open the front door – holding it open for Mr Fuck-Knows-What. The lawyer at least has the sense to bow his head and get out of there sharpish, his expression still infuriatingly smug and stale.

"So?" Steven asks when he's gone. "That's why you wanted me out the house, is it?"

"No." Brendan lies.

"Ah, c'mon – I knew as soon as I read your list that somethin' weren't right – all the crap you've got on here!" Steven snaps, "You just wrote down stuff you thought would take me ages to find!"

Something stirs in Brendan. A sense of amusement whisks its way through the dank depths of his depressive state. The idea of Steven scratching his head, wondering around the supermarket, growing more and more fed-up as he tried to tackle Brendan's ridiculous list... it _is _pretty funny. Alright, yes, Brendan had done it on purpose to keep him out of the way for a while. And if that lawyer hadn't had the audacity to show up _late, _Steven would have never known about it.

"Why are you _laughin_'?!" Steven cries, outraged. "I feel like a right idiot now."

"You are." Brendan grins. It's a little surreal that he even has it in him to _grin _after the events of the past few days… but he is. And as Steven's bottom-lip sticks out into a pout, Brendan's mood is only lifted higher as he moves his way towards him and wraps his arms around Steven's small waist.

Ste resigns to the embrace, as he always does.

But his voice is sulky as he mutters, "So you didn't really need any of that stuff you asked for then?"

"Actually yes." Brendan speaks gravely, "I was thinkin' we could pack it in the car… get away from here for a while. Just start drivin' and keep goin'. What do ye say?"

"Get away from here… like what?" Steven is slow on the uptake, as usual.

"Like whatever you want." Brendan says. "Europe. Could travel… people do that, don't they? Or America. Or wherever. Whatever. Just away."

Steven seems to tense inside his arms. That's not good.

"What?" Brendan asks… and his voice is laced with a twinge of impatience he didn't want to reveal. Because impatience or anything of similar nature is _never _taken well by his temperamental other-half.

"Well… what about the trial?" Steven speaks quietly.

"What trial?"

"The trail against Seamus."

"Fuck the trail."

"_Fuck the trial?_" Steven repeats slowly, as if Brendan's gone mad. What the fuck is wrong with him!? Did they not discuss this?! Did Brendan not specifically say he DIDN'T want the police involved?! Is it not obvious that a trial is the _worst _thing he can do right now… drag himself onto the stand to confess to abuse that ended _years _ago?! Have _Cheryl _sit and watch and listen… and rip away all the wonderful memories she has of her childhood?! No. It's out of the fucking question.

"Yes, fuck the fucking trial!" Brendan snaps, pulling himself away from the embrace. "I'm not doin' it! You can't expect me to!"

"And what about _me_?!" Steven shouts, "Brendan… he tried to kill me!"

"So we're gettin' away from him!"

"NO!"

For the first time, Brendan realises that Steven is furious. Like… deadly furious. His anger at Seamus seems to match Brendan's… even surpass it, because it's not tainted with the same fear and dread that Brendan has. Only wild, furious, revengeful passion.

"He is NOT gettin' away with this, Brendan!" Steven cries, shaking, "With ANY of it! I… he… he is SICK! He is SCUM! And he needs to ROT for what he did to ya! And he DESERVES to loose Cheryl, and she DESERVES to know the truth – she deserves to not follow that scumbag around like a puppy-dog… like a fuckin' embarrassment!"

"HEY!" Brendan roars, "Careful what you say about my sister!"

"I'M NOT RUNNIN' AWAY!"

"You'll do as I say." Brendan hisses in reply. His voice sounds threatening, dangerous… even venomous. It's the fear, the panic driving it out of him. If he was in his right mind, he would hold back – he wouldn't want to deal with Steven in this way. But right now he'll resort to any measures. And if intimidation is what it takes, that's what he'll do, because Steven is more important to him than anybody else in the whole world, and he can't leave without him. But at the same time, there's no way in hell he can stay here.

But as he moves towards Steven, backing him against the wall, it becomes clear that this method is not working.

Steven is not the same boy to be intimidated or bullied anymore.

As his back hits the wall, he looks shocked by Brendan's approach, yes. But not afraid. In fact, the shock is levelled with disappointment… with dislike and disgust.

It's far worse than any fear or anger could be.

Brendan doesn't know what to do now. The air is thick and tense around them, the dank history hanging unpredictably on their ears as Brendan looms over him.

By the time he's retreating backwards, ashamed of himself, Steven has already legged it out of the house.

XOXOXOX

Steven sits alone on the bridge, wrapped in the late December cold and wearing nothing but a thin measly jumper as he runs all of Brendan's words and actions over in his head.

Everything… the events of the past week… it's all too much for him to process. Seamus turning up… Brendan's strange behaviour around him… him freaking out when Ste undressed him… Seamus watching them sleep… Seamus's head smacking the countertop, victim of Brendan's fist. The police… the hands around Ste's neck… the hospital and Cheryl's tears… Brendan's confession, _"Why would they do that to me?"… _and now… _now _he wants to run away?!

But that's not Brendan Brady.

That's not the fighters-spirit that Brendan posseses, that Ste _knows _he wants to exercise. And Ste will fight with him, till the very end, if Brendan will only let him. Ste will help him get his justice.

And it pains Ste to see Brendan reduced to this. It physically hurts him to think that Brendan can run from Cheryl, run from his club, run from their life here… all because of that sick sick man. And… what? Everyone is happy to let Seamus continue walking around as normal? Because without Brendan making his statement, there's nothing tarnishing this man as the paedophile he really is.

Ste's eyes feel sore from tears, but he's too drained for any more to come from his eyes. He's been sat here, freezing and reeling and crying for the best part of an hour – but Brendan hasn't followed him.

He knows why.

He's let Brendan down.

Brendan needs him – now more than ever – and all Ste's done is fuck up. He was the one who resigned to Cheryl's request that they sleep on the sofa. He was the one that wound Seamus up, and landed in hospital. Like the biggest traitor in the world, he told the police what it was not his place to tell them. And now he's refusing Brendan his _one _request – to run away. A perfectly understandable request at that.

"You fuckin' idiot." Ste hisses to himself. And it turns out his tears aren't so dried up after all, because they're seeping out again.

If Brendan pulled up in his car now with talks of travelling Eurpope, then _of course _Ste would go with him – he always would. But he just finds it so hard to give up like this. To see Brendan give up on himself.

"Ste?"  
Ste jumps, and turns to see who is addressing him.

Fuck. He completely forgot Declan was even here.

"Hi…" He mutters numbly to Brendan's oldest son.

"Are you alright?" Declan sounds as awkward as any teenager would under the circumstances.

Ste hastily wipes his tears to save them both the embarrassment.

"Fine." He sniffs, "Jus' had to get out of the house for a bit, y'know."

"Yeah." Declan sounds stiff. But then, of course he does. He's on Seamus's side, isn't he? The black bruises on Ste's neck probably make him uncomfortable and torn. Well good. Fucking good.

"Mum's takin' us home today." Declan explains.

Ste nods. He's not surprised.

"Are you gonna say goodbye to your Dad?" He asks… but he knows it's futile.

Declan shrugs, "I would." He says, "But Cheryl's just gone to see him. She says she'll probably be a while. And we're leavin' any minute."

Ste's stomach lurches.

Shit. Of course.

Brendan is going to be telling Cheryl… right now. And Ste's fucked up all over again, because he's not there with him, he's failing him _again. _Fuck – AGAIN!

"Shit." He mutters, his voice cracked and pained.

"I don't suppose you're gonna tell me what the hell's goin' on?" Declan asks.

"No, sorry Dec, I can't…"

Ste is already getting up, already running from the bridge and back to the house. Declan follows him, only as far as half-way.

"STE!" He calls, as he comes to a stand-still.

Ste doesn't have time for this, but he turns impatiently anyway, "What?!"

Declan sighs. "Look after my Da', yeah?"

Ste blinks, temporarily stunned… momentarily touched.

"I will." He says.

He wishes that that could be a genuine promise. But truth is, he can't trust himself to look after Brendan anymore. He's failed at it miserably so far.

And his failings are only emphasised… when he returns to find Brendan smashing up his own car.

"BRENDAN!" He cries out in horror.

But Brendan can barely hear him. He's beside himself. Distraught. Deranged. And his beautiful car is already smashed to pieces as Brendan lunges the crow-bar into the bonnet, the window-screen, the windows, the doors, the tyres.

In the back-seat, Ste can see all his shopping bags from earlier that Brendan must have packed away for their planned trip. Now glass shatters all over them. Brendan screams out, his voice agonising and hurt as the crow-bar slams again and _again _and _again _into the car.

"Brendan, STOP!" Ste screams, "STOP, PLEASE!"

He can't go near him though – not while he's like this. All he can do is hope his voice is enough to break through Brendan's unhinged episode.

"BRENDAN!"

"No… I CAN'T!" Brendan yells. Or at least, Ste _thinks _that's what he says… but his voice is cracked and destroyed. Physically destroyed. He slams the crowbar again into the back-window of the car, but it's limper this time… like he's losing his energy and breaking down.

Fuck it. Ste can't just stand back and watch this.

He runs forward and against better judgement he seizes hold of the crow-bar that Brendan is lifting for another attack.

"NO!" Brendan cries out agonisingly.

"Yes, STOP BRENDAN!" Ste's voice is strained; fighting against all of Brendan's strength, which is no mean feat. But eventually Brendan's grip slackens. Somehow, Ste has overpowered him. The crowbar falls into his own possession and he tosses it as far away from them as he can, before wrapping his arms on auto-pilot around Brendan… pulling Brendan against him.

"What happened?!" He gasps, breathless.

"Sh…she…she didn't believe me!" Brendan is wrecked with dry-sobs, head buried into Ste's neck.

Ste chances a quick glance away to make sure nobody is watching; he knows that in a comprehensible state, Brendan would hate that. But it seems Brendan's breakdown has scared off any stragglers. They are completely alone in the open-air.

"She didn't believe me Steven," Brendan repeats, crying hard. "I tried to explain… I did… but it came out wrong and I… I fucked it and she doesn't…"

"Wait, wait, wait," Ste coaxes, trying to get his head around this, "What d'ya mean it came out wrong?"

"I blamed her!" He practically wails, "I don't know why… I don't know how… but I blamed her Steven."

"Okay, shhh…" Ste's hand strokes soothingly up and down Brendan's neck and the back of his head.

"I didn't mean to!"

"I know."

"S'not her fault."

"Shh," Ste breathes gently, "I know."

Brendan sniffs, steadies himself. He unclaps himself from Steven's firm grip, and when their eyes meet, Brendan's are bloodshot and circled in dark red.

"I've lost her." He breathes in horror, as if it's just overcoming him now, "I've really lost her this time."

In this moment, all Ste wants to do is escape. That's all he wants to do. It doesn't matter about Seamus; his hate for the man is FAR outpowered by his love for Brendan, and all he knows is that Brendan _needs _to get away… needs to get as far away from here as possible. Because the contaminating _stench _of Seamus will outweigh him wherever he turns here.

"Lets go." Ste whispers, "C'mon – we're leavin'. You were right. We're leavin'."

He turns by default to the car… but it's too smashed-up… they'll get nowhere in it. But his heart is racing and he's fuelled by adrenaline… by love and the need to get Brendan away. Right now, he'll do anything.

"C'mon!" He orders.

And he takes Brendan's hand firmly; dictating to him that _HE'S _in charge, and _HE'S _gonna get Brendan away from all of this. He's going to do it for both of them.

**XOXOXOX**

**I'm sorry I didn't write Brendan's confession to Cheryl, but if I'm being honest – I felt I wouldn't do it justice, and I didn't even want to tackle it. I'm sorry if anyone feels I copped out there! Sometimes I think less-is-more in these cases anyway, but maybe I'm just making excuses! **

**The next chapter is the last chapter, and I hope this is reaching some kind of natural conclusion for you.**


	7. Chapter 7

Brendan's mind is moving slowly; blurred and distorted. It's like his brain has frozen into a dank volume of nothingness the moment Cheryl's eyes had hardened… and her face had turned to disgust, and she had whispered that word with such conviction … "Liar."

It's everything he'd ever feared, but it was so much worse in real life. The impact was frightful; like the look she gave him could be enough to kill him right there and then. Her attitude confirmed everything he already knew: he was a freak. But for _her _to think so… he feels shattered and agonised.

Steven's hand is clasped around his now, and it feels warm… like some kind of hopeful nudge piercing through his miserable stupor. He follows Steven wherever Steven guides him, like he's a blind man.

He doesn't have the energy to feel surprised when they end up standing by Seamus's car.

"C'mon, get in." Steven orders. His voice is firm. He's so assured, so steady, Brendan can hardly believe it. And even though none of this makes sense, Brendan does as he's told because Steven's whole demeanour _insists_ on Brendan's trust in him.

He climbs into the passenger seat and watches blankly as Steven climbs into the drivers. He blinks… starting to feel some kind of emotion… as Steven fiddles about with the ignition… and the car engine revs into gear.

Steven looks pleased with himself, and also a little sheepish and embarrassed.

"You know how to hotwire?" Brendan asks, somewhat taken aback by the genius of such a skilful move. It shouldn't even come as a surprise to him, he realises; Steven's scallyish tendencies have become expertly hidden over the years, but that only makes him more of a dark horse.

"'s good, innit?" Steven grins. He seems to sense how impressed Brendan is.

And he _is_ impressed. In fact, he's overcome with a strong desire to laugh… to grip the lad tight and squeeze him for being so brilliant. Fuck, he's good. Brendan's feelings for him in this moment are almost overwhelming; unable to believe how he managed to end up with someone so…

All he can do is murmur a breathless, "God I love you."

He means it. He means it so sincerely. And when Steven smiles at him, it's clear he _knows _how genuine a statement that is… and that Brendan doesn't have to do or say anything else.

"C'mon, we better hurry then!" Steven sniggers. He seems to exercise a sort of gleefulness at having been so daring. Brendan wonders whether any part of him misses his old criminal life.

Only as the car is reversing does Brendan remember the undiscovered Christmas present that he bought Steven, and waits for him outside the club… his own car.

Oh well. Fuck it. There's a sense of deep satisfaction for both of them at pillaging Seamus's own vehicle. Brendan might have felt uncomfortable inside here if it wasn't for Steven's firm, reassuring presence… the consistency of him _always _coming through for Brendan during his times of need.

Fuck, how did Brendan get so fucking lucky?

They've been on the road for about ten minutes before Steven turns to him with genuine curiosity and asks, ""Do I look fit when I'm drivin'?"

Brendan's mouth twitches with amusement. All of this is slightly mystifying under the circumstances. Here they are… driving God-knows-where… escaping their lives with no luggage or possessions… running from the demons that haunt them… and Steven is seriously questioning how 'fit' he looks?!

Brendan bites back a smile, and humours Steven with a dry, simple response.

"Yeah."

"Do I?!" Steven's face lights up enthusiastically.

"Yeah, but pull over will ye?" Brendan undoes his seatbelt in preparation, "Last thing we need's the police takin' you in."

Thankfully, Steven's rebellion doesn't go as far as defying Brendan's common sense. He pulls over to the side of the road obediently, albeit with a hint of reluctance in his expression.

As the car falls to a halt, the two of them sit in silence for a minute or two.

Weighing up their options.

The immediate adrenaline wavers somewhat as the actual magnitude of the situation overcomes them. Of them leaving everything behind… their flats, their businesses… Cheryl.

Brendan draws a long, heavy, weighed-down sigh.

"Shit." He groans.

Steven treats his anguish with respectful silence. And 'quiet' is a trait that's usually alien on him. Brendan can get sick of the way he can talk a mile a minute, never shutting up… but right now Brendan _needs _him to do that. He just needs to see and feel and hear Steven here with him, to truly believe that's the case.

"C'mon, where d'you wanna go?" He forces himself to speak evenly.

"Dunno." Steven shrugs, "We can go wherever, I guess, can't we?"

"Mm-hm."

"So long as they sell lager and seedless jam." Steven says with a smirk.

"Hmm." A chuckle escapes Brendan almost unwillingly, forcing itself out once again of his hardened exterior.

Still, the brief return of humour doesn't fool Steven, as nothing can.

"Brendan, are you alright?"

Brendan thinks about this question for a moment.

He answers as honestly as he can.

"I will be."

Steven nods, as if that's enough.

He _will _be okay… as he always seems to be eventually. He's found himself in the very darkest pits of despair before; throughout his whole life he's been through fazes of fear, brokenness or the dank depths of loneliness. Now he's lost Cheryl, and that's probably a loss that will never be replaced… a tear in him that will never be repaired. His baby sister. But he's had loved-ones rip parts of him before. He can live without them, so long as Steven continues on by his side as he is doing.

He leans forward, and pushes his lips tenderly against his better halfs.

"I love you."

Steven's lips form a smile against his, "I know. You said."

"Thought you might have forgot." He smirks back, using the advantage of his unbuckled seatbelt to push himself on top of Steven, push his tongue down Steven's throat.

Like always, Steven complies to him. His mouth opens obediently for Brendan's own, his legs part on reflex, his fingers rise to Brendan's neck to pull him ever closer. Brendan's tongue takes over Steven's mouth first with passionate aggression, and then slows down, lapping their lips slowly and sensually together… like the giving and taking of promises.

Eventually, Brendan begins to ease himself away. But not before Steven has hold of his neck again, and pulls him back with a breathless, "C'mon. Lets baptise the car."

He's a fucking minx today.

His hatred for Seamus has manifested itself into ruthless schoolboy transgressions, rather than his earlier conquest to involve the law.

Well Brendan fucking loves this side to him, and he's more than happy to indulge it.

Before he knows it, Steven is unbuckling Brendan's belt, panting with lust as he pulls at the buttons on his shirt, tugging Brendan to lie on top of him. Brendan simultaneously rids him of his jumper, plants hard kisses down his neck, collar bone and chest until Steven is arching himself off the surface.

"Ugh, fuck…" Steven mutters uncomfortably as the gear-stick prods at what Brendan can only imagine is his arse.

Brendan stifles a laugh.

"Easy." He smirks.

"Can ya just…" Steven squirms, trying to position himself comfortably, and also taking the opportunity of readjusting to push his trousers down. Multi-tasking. Brendan likes that.

Brendan just watches for a moment… partly because it's funny, and partly because he's one again found himself stunned by how much he loves the bugger.

"Here," Ste says, breathless – and lifts his feet into Brendan's face so that he can take over the job of pulling off Steven's jeans.

Brendan does so, and tosses them into the back, and Steven hooks his legs over Brendan's shoulders.

"Right," Brendan smirks, "Ye sorted?"

"Yeah," Steven grins, "Quick though, before the coppers come!"

"Ever the romantic, eh?"

"Mm-hm." Steven pulls Brendan down so they're chest to chest, mouth to mouth, and their tongues are exploring each other once again. Brendan's hardness rubs through his unzipped fly against Steven's arse, provoking a series of yearning whimpers to escape his lovers lips.

"I haven't got anything on me," Brendan breathes against Steven's mouth, as he realises for the first time that his stash of 'essential' possessions foolishly hasn't stretched to a bottle of lube or a condom.

"It don't matter."

"Ye sure?"

"Yeah."

Brendan believes him. Trusts him completely, just as Steven does him.

He's slow and careful as he pushes inside Steven. He keeps his eyes fixed on Steven's expression, which changes with every inch Brendan furthers inside of him. Brendan observes Steven's eyes; glazed over with lust, and his thick lips open with deep heated breaths escaping from between them. His face is flushed, and his chest bounces with his breathing, and his tongue swipes fast across his own lips, before he croaks, "Harder."

Brendan doesn't require any further persuasion. He loses himself in Steven; he becomes mindless in the pleasure. All he can feel is Steven's skin gripped underneath his own fingertips, Steven's breath in his ear – and he's all that Brendan's aware of. All his being becomes this; this heated series of gasps and moans and sensations that only Steven can draw from him and vice versa.

They climax together, and Brendan collapses down on top of Steven so that the come on his stomach sticks onto Brendan's open-buttoned shirt – but it doesn't matter. When he slowly starts to pull out, Steven makes some unconceivable noise that sounds something like, "no". Brendan stays inside a little longer, blinking himself back to reality, cradling Steven's reeling body in his arms.

It takes Steven a little longer to come around, and Brendan watches as the boy numbly pulls himself back into a state of consciousness. His eyes trail upwards and find Brendan's, and his panting mouth breaks into a smile that dazzles in his eyes.

"Alright?" Brendan asks dryly.

"Mm-hm." Steven lets out a winded laugh, "Fuck."

"Yeah. Fuck."

They spend the next hour just sat there – stationary, silent. The steamed-up windows are used to their advantage; blocking out the world outside. Blocking out all the horrors and repercussions and regrets and sadness.

But slowly the windows start to clear, and the long open road stretches out visibly before them.

"Lets just drive wherever." Steven says eventually, "It's an adventure that way, innit? We can load up the car with snacks and that – and none of that posh useless stuff you wrote on the list – we can just get crisps and chocolates and stuff."

"But what if I get _tubby_?" Brendan finds himself smirking.

Steven shrugs, "Ah. Never mind."

And then an idea seems to alert him; "Ey! We can be like one of them on-the-road couples, can't we? You know, like you see in them gangster films. And we can change our names wherever we go. I'm gonna be Rex first – I wanted that name when I was a kid!"

He lets out a honking goofy laugh which makes Brendan's stomach flip a little.

"An' you can be Harold." Steven continues on with a mischievous grin, "Cos I reckon that suits ya, Harold, especially if ya put on a bit of weight…"

Brendan starts the engine and allows Steven's relentless chattering to settle him into a state of comfort and familiarity. He zones in and out of Steven's spiels, but Steven never requires any input from him anyway; it's like he just knows that his voice can soundtrack Brendan's well-being, and indulges.

They end up on a road that neither of them recognise, and allow it to take them away – forever.

**XOXOXO**

**And that's the end folks! Thanks so much to all those who've followed and supported this fic – I've really appreciated the feedback! Hope this ended in a way that's half satisfactory =)**


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